


Luctor et emergo

by JuIia



Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: F/M, not finished, probably ooc sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-04 20:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuIia/pseuds/JuIia
Summary: The apocalypse hit almost three years ago, but not all withered on the course of death and destruction. Gillian Sommerling was one of those who turned the hardships into something bearable - often at the expense of others.Sometimes she wonders if she should still fight for it all. An answer to this question manifests itself as a bunch of ragged refugees who are running away from something, someone. They adopt her as one of their own and suddenly, Gillian has something to live for.At least until death strikes, again.-Takes place in Telltale's The Walking Dead- universe, and is heavily inspired by the game’s plotline and the actions of the characters.I’ve taken the writer’s freedom to alter certain fates, though.





	1. Passing

The firewood was crackling and smoking, spitting fizzing sparks to the crisp night air occasionally breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over a little camp located deep in the woods of Northern Virginia. It was late, the night had fallen many hours ago yet still, two figures danced around the flames alert for the smallest snaps of twigs and rushing of leaves, not daring to have a moment of rest for themselves. A pale girl huddled near the fire, focused on something that lay on the ground while the other one stood close to the tree line, observing, broad shoulders tensed up. 

One daring spark managed to slip past their guard, jumping from the hearth and landing on a nearby piece of cloth. For a moment it gleamed, ready to catch fire, to spread out - until a lazy boot stomped on it, dampening its glow.

“Gillian. Once again, we can’t stay this close to the fire”, an annoyed male voice rang through the air. The words reached the ears of the female who looked over the flames at her agitated companion. She smirked knowingly.

“Won’t happen again” Gillian waved him off continuing to disassemble her small handgun in the light of the fire. She received a glare from the male which quickly melted into a soft sigh. After all that they had been through, he still could not hate Gillian for her wits. The man slowly sat on the cloth near her emptying his backpack hastily, then filling it again carefully placing his belongings in a neater order. The two were on a run - to where, they did not exactly know. They had been moving from place to another for so long that by now their initial destination was already long forgotten.

“Ah, fuck. Hunter, I still cannot insert the magazine properly!”

The girl looked up at the man who, after rolling his eyes patted the ground next to him, gesturing her to come closer. Gillian flashed a smile and crawled over to the man’s side. He shook his head but allowed her to lean against him. Their shadows were tall, cast on the ground like that.

“It’s because you have no patience, hun. It doesn’t go in by cramming it, y’know.”

It certainly was not the first time Hunter had to teach Gillian Sommerling how to work around guns which showed from his impatient moves. He pressed the magazine swiftly to its place, and after hearing the soft chink he passed the gun to Gillian. She took it to her hands, smiling softly. He could already sense the mischievousness that radiated from her.

“Gee. I wonder if I’ll ever learn”, she surmised, mimicking the actions of Hunter’s: released the magazine and with identical ease, slid it back to its place. It was all familiar banter for the man who just briefly patted her head, smile giving in his reaction of the girl’s tease. She threw the gun away and he opened his arms for her, closing the girl into a tight embrace that warmed them both up. She dared to press a light peck on his chiseled cheek, and he returned the favor by kissing her lips.

“I’m sorry, Hunter. It’s been a while since you've been angry at me”, Gillian eventually broke the comfortable silence. “I almost missed it.”

_It had been like this forever_ , Gillian and Hunter, they shared a thought while embracing each other. Their past tracked down to almost three years when the outbreak; the end of the world, had come. It reanimated dead into living and turned living into dead, brought them back to life in a form of grotesque, rotting body that had a never-ending appetite for human flesh. The virus - if it even was one, no one knew, had wiped out most of the citizens of the United States and those few who were unlucky, _damned_ enough to survive had to battle through every minute of their miserable lives not to die, or worse. Usually, Gillian was thankful that she had survived alive for so long- she was not scared anymore, and despite being rough at first, this new life felt almost purifying. Though, aimless as well- dependent on sheer luck. 

The Asian man sighed deep in his thoughts and she knew that the moment, a chance for something had been lost. His calloused fingers were no longer traveling across the little of her back; instead, his palm had ceased against the dirt behind her, fingers impatiently tapping as if he was waiting for something to occur. Gillian's brow furrowed lightly -

"What are you thinking?" her calm voice insisted, not giving away the already stirring anger hiding behind those words that were only masked to be innocent. The man lowered his gaze and flashed a toothy smile at nothing. "Hunter?"

"I'm thinking about where we will end up, that's all."

Yeah, she admitted, it was a thing worth knowing the answer to. Succumbing to her thoughts the woman hummed in agreement. They had somehow drifted to Virginia due to Hunter's miscalculations but since they did not really care where they ended up anyway, they had never thought about it out loud. _Where would they end up, eventually?_ Gillian sensed that that was not all Hunter harbored to himself. It was the way he always lead her thoughts, like now, to focus on the less important things, to stray away from his true intentions.  
His right hand had climbed to rest on his thigh, twiddling a loose belt hoop. He always fiddled it with his right hand when he thought about Lilly, Gillian knew. Suddenly the anger engulfed, burning hot. No boot could dampen the spark of utter jealousness when the young woman pushed herself away from the male, scoffing abruptly. 

"Say it."

Hunter looked straight at her, serious, but calm. "I simply thought that maybe we will end up meeting some of our old group in the North. Including Lilly. I know", he reassured when she flinched upon the mention of that name. "That's all, babe."

He was teasing her with the pet names, fully knowing that it only worsened the situation. Truth to be told, he had missed Gillian's bursts of attitude as well. Lately, they had been so exhausted that they just ate, slept and walked. He missed the _spark_. That little something had shown him how special the girl had been, that little something was the reason he had wanted her to join his travels although his rational side had begged him not to.

But Gillian was not buying any of his shit at the moment, not with the image of Lilly plastered across her retina. She definitely did not miss the unstable woman who had used Hunter and then abandoned them alone, stealing their supplies and rations. _'Fuck you, you stupid gullible piece of shit. Did you really think I'd ever love you?'_ Gillian had thought that Lilly did. So had Hunter. _'And you. You little fucking bitch with daddy issues, I'm sick of your face and complaints! What do you want from us so badly that you left the others? Or did you think you'd gather yourself a small harem of women and live off the thriving lands at the end of the world, happily thinking we'd be okay with it? Hardly, Hunter. Hardly.'_

And then she had left them, just like that during the night while it was her turn to guard their camp.  
Needless to say, Gillian was furious now that he still dared to bring up the unfortunate name of Lilly.

"Fuck you. I don't want to see her ever again", her voice fumed, rising in the volume as well as aggressive tone. Hunter was still neutral, brown eyes swiping over the young woman's expressive face. He puckered his lips in an attempt to elicit a laugh from his companion - but failed. 

"I've been just thinking about leaving like her, really. Maybe I should since you have little to no use for me anymore, anyways", Gillian threatened with a shaky, too loud voice. Hunter coughed to disguise a burst of laughter the girl's threats stirred from him. She was cute when she tried to persuade him like that, he thought. But they were being too loud, and the only way to calm the girl down was to leave her to be for a little while. She could take care of herself for that period, and when he would be back she would be all over him apologizing and trying to make it up for him. As usual.

"Right you will. I'll go and take a look at the traps, babe. You stay here and tend the flames, would you?"

He got up and pulled out his knife, just in case, ignoring Gillian's agitated blabbering about his doucheness. "And if you're a woman of your words you won't be here when I come back, right?", he purred. "Remember to leave at least some supplies for me, too."

She kicked a pile of sand towards his general direction, sending him away with light laughter. Before he left the circle of light he sent a wink to her, to which she answered with a soft, knowing look. And then she was alone.

She sat down on the ground, carefully listening to her surroundings, but also too deep in her thoughts to notice the smallest sounds she regarded as the forests noises. Hands uncomfortably nimble, she gathered all of her belongings and set them to a neater order in front of her backpack. Even if Hunter would return with game, they would probably still leave the camp, she assumed. They had been staying in the same spot for a little too long. 

Gillian did not hear the careful footsteps that stopped behind her, but the click of the safety trigger, a noise so unexpected and loud in the quiet night made her jerk in abrupt shock. 

"H-Ha-ha, funny, Hunter", she whispered and turned to face the barrel of an unfamiliar shotgun only inches away from the tip of her nose. Her eyes fluttered and locked with a cold, green stare. The man holding a shotgun just stood and looked at her, quiet. He was Caucasian, balding and immediately screamed danger at Gillian's face. 

"Who-"

Her words were interrupted by two violent hands that gripped around hers, locking them behind her back in a plier-like steely grip. Her initial reaction was to trash free but to no avail: she felt how her worn shirt ripped in the grip of the captor and gave up. She saw a third person staying further from the scene, looking at her with grim eyes. 

"Winston, at your service, missy", the balding man hawked at her. The hands holding her shook her body slightly to remind her of the male's presence. 

"And he's Ralph. This is Vincent." 

He pointed his gun at the man who was standing at the side, eyeing the commotion looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"We're here to fucking rob you, whether you wanted it or not."

"If you scream, we will shoot", a male voice, Ralph's, echoed behind Gillian.

The two others got a little closer, balding one smiling faintly. They smelled foul and sweaty, coppery - like blood, she realized faintly. 

"You're all alone, princess", Winston sneered, flashing an ugly yellow smile. "Your buddy seemed to be so preoccupied with his traps that he was as easy target as a rotter."  
His words etched themselves to Gillian's brains, rendered her speechless, a faint sob giving away her grief. Surely they were lying- Hunter could not be dead? Could he?

As if hearing her words the balding man laughed maliciously. A whisper caressed Gillian's cheek.

"Yeah, you got it. Dead as a stone. We heard your little chattering and figured he was worth horseshit anyway", Ralph murmured, again shaking her stiff body as if to make his words sink in better. The girl stayed quiet. 

"Gather your shit and give it to Victor", Winston barked a harsh order, and Gillian was set free. She did as told, trying her best not to provoke her seemingly violent captors. "And don't even think about any dirty tricks, missy. We've got guns on you."

She knew better and quickly gathered the remaining supplies to her bag. Tears that were smudging her vision finally started to stream down her face when the pale man called Victor stepped forward, taking the backpack away from her.

"Don’t", she whispered, for nothing. The man just looked at her with empty eyes, stepping away from her reach only to empty the bag on the ground again, kicking the supplies around hastily, stomping on her water bottle as she watched. Gillian's sob was interrupted by the violent hands that were on her again, but this time they gripped her hips in a way so familiar to her, pulling her closer to the fire. They were like Hunter's hands when they had first met; eager and possessive, hungry and selfish, disregarding her consent. She knew what the male behind her wanted, and by the determination of the touch, was going to take. An audible sob escaped behind her lips that she so hard tried to keep shut. 

"Now, be a good girl and take your pants off for me", the male whispered quietly. Winston chuckled lowly, rolling his eyes at Ralph, putting the shotgun away. 

"Take your time man, but make sure to keep her mouth shut."

He moved to Victor's side, and they both started rummaging through Gillian's and Hunter's bags. They emptied their water bottles splashing their contents across the camp, devoured the little rations Gillian had neatly packed into plastic bags, tore them apart with their teeth not caring that they only ate a handful, rest crumbling on the ground. She could not resist when she felt the male behind her ripping her shirt from its hem. Her jacket was already torn into pieces, thrown into the fire that aggressively roared.

_"No- please no-"_

Before she could resist, even close her mouth, she felt a cold blade on her throat. A cry left behind her lips, a cry she yet again failed to hold back even though she knew all the unnecessary noise was agitating the men. Ralph hit her in the head with the knives hilt, aggressively tugging her hair. 

"Shut the fuck up, bitch, and take your fucking clothes off or I'll cut your throat and then rape you."

Gillian could not. She was frozen in time, quickly drowning in the panic that swept over her in tidal waves. She did not care when the blade cut the base of her throat a little, but when a pair of teeth sank into her shoulder, biting hard, she burst out in a guttural, gory scream. Scream of fear. Scream of knowing that she, Gillian Jean Rose Sommerling, was going to die today. 

Her scream was silenced by something louder, something even more explosive.  
_Did I wet myself?_ She would not have been surprised if that had really happened, but why was the assailant behind her screaming in agony now, why had he let go of her? Gillian looked at Hunter, perfectly alive and confused Hunter, who looked back at her with plate eyes. He was standing in the clearing now. _They had lied! He was alive!_

"G-"

She did not hear the rest because a ripping explosive noise silenced the air once more. A splurge of crimson red exploded at the base of Hunter's throat, spraying at Gillian's eyes too, making her turn around instinctively to avoid any contact with the disgusting red fluid. She opened her eyes to see Ralph, dead on the ground, brain matter scattered around the dirt which was soaking in deep red. _Blood?_ Gillian looked down at her jeans and saw blood. It streamed down her left thigh, was splattered across her shirt, all over her hands. 

A loud thud woke her from the shock and she turned around to see Hunter on the ground, hardly breathing Hunter, who just looked at her, motioning her to come closer all the while his shaking fingers felt around the entry hole in his neck. 

_"No."_

She fell on her knees, the world spinning around with increasing speed. She tried holding her head, perhaps it would help to balance the mess out, but it hurt her shoulder where she had been bitten. She tried crawling closer to the dying man, screaming and definitely disregarding her surroundings, very well knowing that with all the noise every walker on close perimeters was coming their way. Gillian saw how Hunter's mouth opened and closed, how he coughed and placed Gillian's hands over the wound so that he could hold them with his own. 

"Babe, listen", he hissed, gurgling, spitting blood. Regardless, he was smiling from all the agony he could though he was already pale because of the blood loss, he smiled at Gillian like he had always smiled. Instead of screaming now she was begging him to shut up.

"Don't talk, Hunter. Please, don't talk, I need to stop the bleeding-"

"Gillian", Hunter's voice was steady and loud, leaving no room for objections. It sounded like he was, well - not dying on her arms, and made Gillian cease talking. Instead, she locked her red eyes at Hunter's brown ones, desperately trying to suppress the bleeding of his neck. "A gun. Here", he continued, removing her hands from his neck, instead putting his trusted gun in them. With steady fingers, Hunter moved her to grip the metal instead of his neck no matter how much she wanted to throw the weapon away and force life to stay inside Hunter. 

"I am going to die, Gillian. Listen. Take care... of yourself, babe. Do it for me, okay? Don't... fucking dare- to give up."

"Don't do this to me, let me fix you, I know how-..."

"Let go, babe."

She started sobbing and despite his resistance, placed her hands over the wound for one last time. _Heal, heal for fuck's sake,_ she wished with all her might, but nothing happened. She had no secret powers waiting to manifest at her command. She was no superhero. Hunter was dying and she could do nothing about it, because she was just a miserable, gored little girl. Soon a dead miserable one too.

"Gillian", he managed to choke out after having been talking so much. He had started to tremble a bit, she felt it when his hand wrapped around hers for the last time. His beautiful tan skin had lost its warm hues and now he was paler than the girl, with all the blood spreading across the ground dyeing the grass crimson red. "Kiss me."

She obeyed frantically, disregarding the taste of blood in her mouth. Hunter nodded weakly and smiled for one last time. His grip was already losing its strength, hands slowly ceasing to lay on the ground. 

"Gillian."

"Hunter."

"Do you" he broke down in a gurgling cough but found enough power to muster his one last sentence. "Do you now.... remember how... to insert the magazine... properly?"

He died with a smile on his lips. He took his last breath while Gillian broke down to a scream. She watched the light die out of his dark, lively eyes, that quickly became glazed. Her brains registered a guttural growl from somewhere near - but Hunter was there, he was there with her, surely he would save her like he had countless times before - she got up, hand still clamped around Hunter's, dragging him away from the death. 

"Please, get up, Hunter!"

He didn't answer. 

"Hunter!"

A shadow lunged towards them scaring Gillian away from his body. A rotting corpse waddled closer to her, reaching towards her figure, growling deadly. She darted away from it running aimlessly to the brushes. Their cold, damp leaves slashed her face like knives - she faintly realized that she was bleeding not only from her neck but shoulder and leg, too. She was loosing too much blood, too quickly. The bullet had not hit her artery, and this thought calmed her down significantly. It had hit her outer thigh and traveled straight through the layer of fat, leaving an ugly indentation in its wake. The bleeding was steady but did not pulsate. That was enough to tell the young woman that with some basic sutures, she could survive. _At least in theory._

"Stop the bleeding", she spoke to herself to keep her thoughts together. _Fuck,_ she realized, her jacket. _Gone._ She would have to rip a piece of her shirt to stop the bleeding, as much as she hated the idea because of the freezing cold night air. With shaking hands, she managed to get a rag out of the hem of her shirt which she tied around her thigh so tightly that she could almost not feel it. It felt calming. 

After the shock had passed Gillian decided to assess the situation better, leaning against a pine tree to catch a breath. Feeling down the side of her thigh she confirmed her suspicions. It had definitely passed through - a burning sting was good enough indicator when her fingers reached the back of her thigh. It was good. If an artery had been injured, she would have been long unconscious. Hemorrhage shock was to be expected, and soon too, the more she ran, she reasoned herself. _Make a plan. Do not get yourself killed the moment Hunter has gone,_ she shook herself up mentally. 

Her leg could not handle it. After finding barely enough force to push herself from the tree, Gillian took one step and fell down immediately. The bleeding of her leg had been suppressed, yes, but combined with the blood loss and tight wrap around it, she could not feel it at all. Fearing for the worst she forced herself back on her feet although it hurt more than anything ever had before.

_You have to get to safety. Find a safe. A hollow tree trunk - anything. You are going to die out here without cover._ It was as if Hunter's deep voice was giving her orders to keep herself alive. She surely had no will for it - but for Hunter, she would do anything. With great struggle, Gillian was able to stand up properly. She could walk if she leaned on her right leg more than the left one, and limping like this, she managed to move forward. The forest around her was quiet. There was no wind, no rustling of leaves, no nothing. Even the birds were silent as if anticipating something. It was peaceful and so much more quiet than what Gillian had ever experienced. She even suspected that she might have gone deaf - but her painful groans were very much audible, echoing in the empty, dead woods. 

The peace was undisturbed.


	2. Beginning

**7/14/2010**

_Hi, dad. It’s Gillian. Since when did you start letting calls pile in your voicemail? Anyway. I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay, the call from last night was nothing. I’m fine. It was the neighbor couple, they had some issues. An ambulance came. Anyway, I think I’m staying in Macon for a while. I’ll promise to send postcards. Just call me? Bye.”_  


**7/17/2010**

[3:16 PM, 7/17/2010] Gillian S.: Hey, I think something’s not right. Where are you guys? Did you get back safely?? There’s helicopters flying around and shit and I don’t think it’s bc of the Cherry Blossom festival. Scared :/

[3:45 PM, 7/17/2010] Margot bb: Yes we r okay... We r taking Oliver to ER. He was bitten by some fucking crazy man but why tf u in Macon? 

[3:45 PM, 7/17/2010] Gillian S.: Where are you? 

[5:03 PM, 7/17/2010] Gillian S.:???? hello

[5:28 PM, 7/17/2010] Margot bb: Baltimore. I don’t see any helicopter. You silly

[5:30 PM, 7/17/2010] Gillian S.: Stay safe ok?

[5:55 PM, 7/17/2010] Margot bb: Mdr. Txt u later. Silly :P 

 

**7/19/2010**

[7:42 AM, 7/19/2010] Gillian S.: What the fuck’s going on there?

[7:44 AM, 7/19/2010] Gillian S.: Hello?

[7:44 AM, 7/19/2010] Gillian S.: Why aren’t you picking up? :/ 

[10:01 AM, 7/19/2010] Gillian S.: Is Oliver ok? Did he talk to you?? Whatever he’s saying is lies just so you know

[4:19 PM, 7/19/2010] Margot bb: Is this gillian

[4:22 PM, 7/19/2010] Gillian S.: Where’s Margot? 

[7:33 PM, 7/19/2010] Gillian S.: Hey??? Please answer x

 

**7/20/2010**

[3:07 AM, 7/20/2010] Margot bb: margot’s dead gillian this is anna from sociology

[6:59 AM, 7/20/2010] Gillian S.: Stop fucking with me bitch. Give her the phone and let me call her rn

[7:02 AM, 7/20/2010] Margot bb: im not please call for an ambulance they are not leting calls get through here and were stuck

[7:04 AM, 7/20/2010] Gillian S.: ok Where are you

[7:05 AM, 7/20/2010] Gillian S.: hey???

[7:09 AM, 7/20/2010] Gillian S.: please anna answer 

 

**7/22/2010**

_  
Dad. I think I’m going to die here. Please tell mom that I love her too. I love you so much. I want to come home... I can’t move from here I’m stuck and there’s someone at my door but I think they are bitten and they advised us not to open doors for injured. I have some food but they said they would cut the water supply soon._

_Dad I’ll miss you so much and mom too. I'm so sorry that I was an awful daughter to you.  
Please call me if you get this. Please. Don't be dead. _

_Ple-  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mdr is slang and means 'dying laughing' in French


	3. Them

Gillian had passed out at some point of the night. She awoke to the sound of crows that were hungrily cawing around her, perhaps mistaking her as one of the dead. She surely felt like one.  
"Where am I?" the confused whisper scared the flock in the air all around her, where they landed on the branches of the pine trees curiously eyeing out the meat that moments ago had laid so still, yet now spoke to them in a weird language.

Little by little Gillian's memory returned to the grasp of her consciousness and she remembered what she was doing, somewhat where she was. Hunter was gone. Even the bandits were gone. The forest still surrounded her like a dark green veil. It was almost time for dawn yet no light penetrated the heavy branches of needles. The crows watched her as she rolled on her side, groaning in discomfort - she had laid on the ground for hours and scraped her right cheek with little rocks and dirt. When her fingers carefully felt their way on the sensitive skin of her bruised neck, she could feel dried blood all around her cleavage area. However, the bleeding of her neck had stopped - and that was good. Perhaps the temperature was on Gillian's side after all. Sobbing faintly the gored girl forced herself on her feet which only carried her for two steps until they buckled under, sending her to the ground once again accompanied by a faint cry. Her hands could only stop the fall so much. 

Through her pained gasping, Gillian could hear faint noises from somewhere on her right, noises that were not from the clamoring crows. Great. Hallucinations meant great exhaustion, she recited a quote her professor had taught during one medical course. Great exhaustion meant weakness. Weakness meant death. The thought of walkers escaped her mind as she cried out in the morning air, sad and weak. Powerless. The birds began flying away one by one, uninterested. 

"Please don't go", she cried after them, thinking about dying.

 _But I don't want to die,_ she corrected her ill thoughts. _I promised Hunter that I would survive. For his sake._ She tried her best to get back on her feet but they would not carry her. What would Hunter do in a situation like this? Gathering enough strength to crawl, Gillian moved to sit against a rock to ponder this question that at the moment was the only thing keeping her from descending into hysteria. Sitting upright relieved her dizziness slightly and she could start picking words from the surrounding white noise, although involuntarily - she had sworn that somewhere behind her, Hunter's voice had called her.

**_There! Fuck, she's all bloody!_ **

Were her hallucinations after her? What did they want? Who was it, that spoke to Gillian through her mind, at a moment like this? She could not tell whose voice it had been. Was she losing it, finally?

**_Grab her and let's go!_ **

Hallucinations surely did not have the power to move anyone, right? Gillian curled tightly against a strange figure who held her in his arms. _His_ arms? How could she know who it was that so effortlessly carried her? She would have to open her eyes to investigate. Always investigate, Hunter's voice echoed in her disorganized head.

Gillian was almost blinded by it - _it,_ the most beautiful, vibrant color she had ever seen. She saw orange, perhaps a little dirty, muddied orange. Her blood-stained fingers touched this weird unnatural color that she had not seen in such a long time, probably years or so. The color was soft and warm to the touch. Her hand traveled up the color until it reached something that felt like skin. It was soft but there was something coarse, like dull needles. What could it be? The word escaped her mind immediately. Her eyes could not focus on anything, she did not trust them to reveal the identity of her carrier. But her fingers could still work and feel. They fumbled upwards and reached something softer -

"Hey", a gentle voice spoke and someone moved Gillian's fingers from what she immediately identified as lips. "Are you all right?" 

Panic sprung her into survivor mode. Her eyes opened rapidly and she could finally tell what was going on. _Someone_ carried her like a baby on their arms. That someone was a young man perhaps in his late twenties. Their eyes locked in a stare and she could tell that he had gentle brown eyes and a milk chocolate-colored hair. His shirt was orange and she could recognize it as the foreign material that her feverish self had been so confused about. Without a doubt, those lips she had felt had been his. She would have blushed if she had had enough blood to shoot on her face. Instead, she remained alert, staring at the man and hoping that he was going to turn out all right. He did not seem to be one of the bandits that had raided the camp last night, but she could not know for sure. What if there had been others around? Had the other two not run away from the scene? She could not remember.

"Hey there", another voice interrupted her staring contest with the chocolate-haired man. This one was bald and dressed in camouflage hunting gear that effectively rendered him one with the surrounding greenery. He was forcing something on his lips that Gillian only later recognized as a smile. 

The men were walking peacefully and because of this, Gillian made a quick deduction that they were close to whatever their destination was. A camp, a house, whatever people lived by in these parts of Virginia. She tried to look around but her neck stung painfully from laying on the cold ground the whole night. From what she could see, this place was nowhere near _their_ former camp. Hunter had not liked completely mindless roaming so they had never searched the woods that well after arriving. _We should have,_ Gillian thought bitterly and tried to memorize a shape of a tree, an abnormal branch or a bush, any landmark of sorts if she had to once again run for her life. Or walk. Truthfully she had no idea how much she had walked during the night and if her body could put up with more physical burden now. Knowing fully that she had no strength to even stand up on her own, Gillian decided to protest nevertheless. It was in her nature, after all.

"I can walk", the girl slurred quietly and tried to wriggle free of the young man's hold. Her ride chuckled - she had not heard such a hearty chuckle in such a long time. She could feel it against her left side.

"Oh, is that so? 'Cause last time I saw you could barely crawl away from all those lurkers back there. I got you, don't you worry. You're light as a feather."

Gillian fell silent and stopped squirming partially because of his kind words, but also because her shoulder where the hidden bite mark laid, was stinging like a fresh burn. _Lurkers?_ She had seen none. Did she owe a thank you for the two? The men, seemingly not minding her defiant silence, resumed walking looking around every now and then presumably for walkers. _Or lurkers,_ she chuckled dryly. As they would call the walking dead. _Lurkers? How stupid._ She did not know where this sudden anger towards the two stemmed from. She owed her damned life to them. Perhaps exactly that was why she was angry. She did not want to owe anyone anything. At these times people took that kind of promises way too literally. Especially when it came to owing one's life.

"What are you doing out here?" the bald man inquired in a somber tone. Her carrier looked at her concerned, as eager to hear answers. Gillian was doing nothing, absolutely nothing. She did not know how to trace. She did not know how to read stars, although Hunter had once tried to teach her. Gillian had no sense of direction both literally and figuratively, not without Hunter. She remained silent. 

"Is that blood all yours?"

She shook her head ever slightest, but did not manage to soften the dubious look on the older one's face.

"Where are the people you're with?" the orange-clad male added to the inquiry. Gillian wanted to cry. There were no people, not anymore. How could they not realize it from the state she was in?

Despite feeling tears well behind her eyes, she answered quietly.  
”We were attacked by some scavengers."

”What? Who were they? What happened to your people?”

Gillian returned to the confused, lost silence. There was nothing she could say, she truly had no idea who the men had been. Had they told their names? Probably. She had been in such a shock that nothing else had mattered - just surviving. The bald man looked at her once again perhaps to analyze her credibility, perhaps to see if she was even conscious. Probably both. She could not find enough courage to tell them that her people, her person, was no longer. She wanted to, but could not. They seemed to mistake her silence as a confirmation that she was not alone, just separated from her group. Those fools.

"Well, whatever it was, you are safe now. Although", the bald man’s tone got more serious, "I'm not sure how the group's going to feel about another mouth to feed."

Gillian just looked down and tried to hide her face from the men. Her adrenaline rush was wearing off quickly, eyes drooping close, head hanging down little by little. What group were they talking about? Was there more of them, curious and overly friendly people waiting to shred her to pieces with their questions? Perhaps literally? 

"We need to hurry", she could hear a faint whisper that her disheveled, fading appearance elicited from her savior, the orange man. "Are you sure she hasn't been bitten? She isn't looking so good."

A coarse palm landed on Gillian's forehead feeling it to detect any signs of a scorching fever so characteristic to the infection that turned you into a walker. There was none to be found. Gillian was slowly freezing now that the warm and so precious blood of hers was lost in big amounts. They did not know. Would they even care if she told? Her rationality had died along Hunter. Somehow she knew that she should let them know, but why was it so hard to talk now? Why could her eyes only stare at the gradually lightening morning sky, the clouds above that continued their leisurely stroll? Gillian wondered if Hunter was in Heaven now. She did not know if he had believed - it only gradually started to occur to her, just how little she really had known about him. 

"Well, she has no fever. We can't know. But we can't leave her here."

Gillian mustered what little energy she had left and captured the eyes of the bald man with her stare. She was breathing heavily and almost on the verge of passing out but her voice was loud and clear. 

"I am not bitten" she pierced the eyes of the camouflaged man with her cloudy stare. He looked back, unswayed. Their staring contest was broken by a hiss of pain that escaped from the girl's lips involuntarily. The one carrying her had touched the gunshot wound and was now apologizing profoundly, trying to hold her better on his arms. The world was spinning in a familiar manner, around and around, and Gillian could not focus on anything anymore. She needed... _sleep..._ Once again those hands squeezed around the wound and Gillian snapped.

"Fuck. Be careful. I'm god damn shot."

"Sorry, sorry. I got you", her carrier spoke warmly, looking at her with worried eyes. She had passed out after delivering the snarky comment and scared that she would turn, the two men began running to close the distance between their little safe haven, that unbeknownst to Gillian was going to change her life drastically. 

-

 _"Would someone mind telling me what the FUCK is going on here?",_ an agitated voice inquired sharply. The noise slowly coaxed Gillian, who was laying on the grass at the feet of a big group, from her slumber.

_"We got this, don't worry."_

This time around Gillian woke up feeling a little better. Without opening her eyes she laid on the ground, eyes tightly shut. Her thigh was still numb from pain but the slash across her neck had stopped bleeding. She did not know how the bite at her shoulder was but knew for better to start feeling it. She would have to be very careful with it at least for a few days because the two men would probably not believe who had inflicted the mark. She was glad that her neck had bled so much that no one would raise suspicion at the bloodied shoulder.

_"Like hell you do. Did anyone even think to ask where she came from? For all we know, she could be working with **him**."_

For a while, she laid still wondering what had awoken her from the sleep only instinctively knowing that she was not alone. It had been those buzzing noises. They were obnoxiously loud, brash and annoyed her so much that she had to open her blurry eyes to tell them to kindly fuck off. Only she had forgotten that her eyesight was still very blurry.

_"She already told us that she and her friend were attacked."_

There were many of _them_ and Gillian could not tell where the first one ended, the second one began. The girl kept her mouth shut, however, previous annoyance dying down immediately. All she could focus on was the very much recognizable barrel of a shotgun, dangerously and so familiarly close to her face. It swayed around furiously as the person holding it spoke, their hands moving wildly to express how displeased they were with the situation. She was annoyed too, yes, but not suicidal. Not anymore at least. She felt a lot better now and suspected that someone had forced some water into her system. She could no longer feel the staining blood of Hunter's on her lips. _The mark of their last kiss._ A burden had been lifted from her shoulders although she was still drenched in his blood from the waist down.

_"You should have put her out of her misery right there. Look at her. She's fucking half dead!"_

The noises kept buzzing and no one really seemed to notice that Gillian was awoken. But what would she do now, that she had regained her consciousness and smarts? There were a few of them, but she was fast if she wanted. She decided to run, rationality discarded out from the window the moment the thought of running away had budded in her mind. Waiting for a better opportunity she stopped to listen - she could tell the people's speech apart now - they were arguing about what to do with her. They said that she was working for someone. That she could not be trusted. That she could turn - she was so mauled that she was practically dead.

That they should kill her. Right here, right now. 

None of them noticed Gillian at first as her feet kicked off springing her into a flee. She was fast on her feet, aided by a rush of adrenaline that pumped her heart rapidly. Her breath got stuck in her throat as she tried to duck behind a tree to avoid a clear line of sight, knowing fully what damage the shotgun would make. She had initially forgotten about it.

"Hey!"

The girl did not stop to look behind her. 

Explosive sound ripped through the air, freezing Gillian to her steps immediately, rationality and adrenaline rush slapping her across her cheeks leaving them covered in red. Not the wisest thought to run away, was it now? Her ears rang painfully and she fell on her knees, scraping them in the process. She could not even feel the pain anymore because her whole body ached. 

Somewhere behind the commotion, a door flew open and hit against a wall with a loud bang that silenced the arguments completely.

"Whoa! _Whoa!_ What the fuck?"

Gillian recognized the voice as the one who had carried her back in the woods and turned around in a breeze. It was him, running down the stairs from a big cabin that Gillian had not noticed before. Her eyes fled to the crowd.

"You’re lucky my nephew can't shoot for shit" a man, the other one from the forest spoke and forcefully gripped a rifle from the hold of a tall, dark-haired man, also dressed in camouflage pants. Gillian looked at the two familiar men shivering from anger, confusion and the adrenaline that was quickly wearing off. She could have died, _again._ Just as she had begun to appreciate life again.

"Who the fuck are you people", she hissed aggressively, holding her neck that had once again resumed bleeding from all the physical strain. Exhausted, Gillian could no longer keep herself in an upright position instead falling on her ass, dizzy, barely taking deep breaths that rooted her back to the moment. The orange-clad man darted to her side, kneeling to her aid. His brown eyes were wide with worry as his palm supported her from falling over.

"Here, press this", he reached out a rag that Gillian forced on her neck with trembling hands. Her wide eyes were on this man now, giving him undivided attention. _Help me,_ her eyes screamed. _Help._

"Alright, everybody take it easy! She was attacked by someone", he spoke to his people who had gathered close to her, feeling secure that now someone else was on a direct line of sight of this stranger who could at any minute turn into a walker. Their stares were judgmental but scared. Gillian could tell them apart better now that they were almost leaning over her. A pregnant lady and a fleshy-looking man, presumably her husband, were standing a little distance away looking at her with suspicious glares. The bald camouflage man followed the lead of the other and knelt on her other side, feeling her forehead with his familiarly calloused palm. Gillian allowed that.

"No fever still, I think she is on the clear. Let's have Carlos look at her though", the old man spoke to the other and dismissively swatted his hand to someone Gillian could not see. Her eyes were still on the warm man dressed in orange. He looked at her too.

"Hi. I am Luke", he introduced himself and smiled a little. "This is Pete. Nick", his voice sounded judging as he looked up to the man who had almost shot Gillian. He was eating his nails nervously, avoiding the glares from the Luke guy as well as Gillian, who leaned closer to Luke almost reflexively. She did not trust him. Luke pointed at the couple.  
"That's Rebecca and Alvin."

Four pairs of eyes were on her now, demanding to know whom they were talking to. 

"Gillian."

"Nice to meet you", Luke's voice was welcoming as his broad palm squeezed her shoulder before releasing it. Someone new was approaching the scene, Gillian noticed after prying her eyes off from Luke's warm ones. It was a Hispanic male, perhaps in his forties. His eyes were analytical and pierced Gillian's in a familiar manner. She had a faint suspicion that he was the group's doctor, that Carlos dude. And fairly enough, as he knelt down at an eye level with her, he spoke words that confirmed her suspicion.

"Let me take a look."

His voice was authoritative enough for the ruckus to quiet down, even silencing the bickering married couple who had moved away from the others to wildly argue about the absurdness of the situation. Gillian moved the rag away, exposing her neck wound for the doctor. He could not miss the leg, either, as it had bled so badly during the action that her jeans were red from blood, some of her own, some of Hunter's. But a bleeding neck was easier to access. His fingers were skillfully pressing around the wound careful not to cause any more damage than necessary. Gillian made sure not to reveal her shoulder for him. If they saw it now, she would be doomed. 

"It is shallow. Doesn't need stitches, but I would need to disinfect it."

Gillian rushed to move her leg away from his touch. 

"It went through. A bullet. I managed to suppress the bleeding but it definitely needs stitches."

"Right now we don't know if we can trust you", the doctor spoke matter-of-factually, standing up from the ground. He had crossed his arms across his chest and locked his analytical stare at the bloodied leg, deep in his thoughts. Gillian knew that odds for a clean heal were astronomical right now - but she would not give up. Her mind began working for a way out. She would not die today.

"She has lost a lot of blood", the doctor noted to the men who were still kneeling around Gillian. "I don't know for sure if she is worth patching up."

Gillian made a sound and was ready to lunge at the man before her, but a creak of door interrupted all of them. Somebody opened the cabin's door thinking that they were being inconspicuous - a closer look revealed that it was a young girl, perhaps in her pre-teens, who now peaked between the cracked door ashamed that the noise had turned her in. The girl bore quite the resemblance to the Hispanic man and Gillian drew a quick conclusion that she was his daughter.

"Daddy? Who is she?"

"Your daddy is helping me" Gillian rushed to speak, scrambling on her wobbly feet despite Luke's wordless protests to keep her seated. "I've been badly hurt."

"What did I tell you, Sarah", the doctor spoke harshly. "Go back inside! And you, you stay away from my daughter."

"She seems to be the only one in here with an ounce of empathy", Gillian spoke bitterly, unable to help the aggressive tone of her voice. It was bad to make enemies from day one but she needed to show that she was far from gone. Hunter had taught her this. _Threatening is better than cowering, babe. And you’re pretty scary when you’re mad._ She did not know if the latter part was true. It was worth a shot anyway. 

Grimacing a little, but forcing herself to straighten her aching back her blue eyes looked at the doctor contently. 

"For what it matters, you're not the only doctor here. And _I_ if anyone know that I am _far_ from being gone."

"Hey now, of course, we will help you", Luke chimed in. He was afraid that the girl would lunge at Carlos. "We found you, we'll take care of you. Right, Carlos?"

The doctor seemed to listen to the dark-haired man's words and nodded restrictedly. His stare wandered back to the cabin's door. 

"Fine. Bring her in and I'll see what I can do", Carlos sighed heavily. "But if she turns... It's not on me."

"Come on then", Luke spoke and knelt to pick Gillian in his arms once again. Ashamed of this kindness, Gillian hid her face from his soft eyes- only to meet her eyes with another pair that stared down at her. It was the man who had tried to shoot her - Nick? More like Prick. A god damn Dick.

 _Fuck you,_ Gillian's agitated eyes messaged him before she had to close them for Luke had accidentally brushed the hurting wound at her shoulder. _Perhaps I am weaker than I thought,_ she admitted to herself as the quick ascend almost made her pass out. Her hand was so pale against the orange sleeve of Luke's, and she could no longer see the veins in her wrists. That was bad. The world around her resumed spinning as the man ascended a few stairs, following the Hispanic doctor inside the cabin.


	4. Aid

The cabin was secluded in the middle of a heavy thicket of all sorts of greenery and lit with inviting, warm candles despite the gradually rising sun. Gillian was engulfed by the smell of wood, coal, and something that she guessed was the smell of fried fish. The cabin was comfortably warm - or it might have been the man who held her, she did not know - she was about to pass out again upon being inflicted to the brightness of the candles. Luke laid her on a sofa, careful not to injure her leg any further. He thrust pillows under her head and made sure that her injured leg did not fall over the edge. The doctor eyed this scene out carefully, while the others shared dubious glares with each other. Especially the pregnant lady seemed to be pissed about the whole situation - Gillian could hear her sighing heavily. 

"I would ask you to leave", Carlos said quietly as he promptly ripped Gillian's jeans apart from the thigh, where they had been frayed by the bullet. The others who had initially gathered all around the sofa quickly dissolved around the cabin: Rebecca and Alvin went to their own little room where heated arguing could be heard, Nick and Pete left somewhere outdoors while Luke's orange silhouette lingered in between the kitchen and living room. Gillian could not see the young girl anywhere. Carlos had his eyebrows tightly knit as he prodded around the wound, stippling it with a sterilized gauze. 

"For now I'll just sterilize and bandage it properly", he explained. "The bleeding has stopped. Lucky for you, it is rather superficial damage."

She smiled. It was not the best news - he still had not stitched the leg, but it worked for the lack of anything better. At least it was not going to rot and fall off. Luke seemed to be displeased by this as he made a quiet sound. Carlos heard it but restrained his urge to argue back. The two walked away from the sofa but Gillian could still hear their words.

"We have to have a house meeting. Right now."

-

The small closet was grim but better than nothing. After patching her leg Carlos had suggested that she would rest - but, to be absolutely sure, not in their living quarters. The pregnant lady had delightedly suggested a shed outdoors but Luke had intervened and offered Gillian a space in the cupboard under the stairs. Reluctantly, she had agreed. Anywhere else was better than laying on the cold ground anyway.

They had laid an old, dirty mattress to the corner but at her current state, it was the most comfortable thing she had ever seen. She allowed herself to sit down, relieved and still shocked by her leg which had finally been patched up somewhat. The wrapping had been hasty and it still definitely needed some stitches, superficial or not, but closed the wound and stopped it from bleeding and getting infected. 

Gillian could hear them talking in the kitchen. Their voices were very muffled but the tone of the conversation was hard to miss - this 'house meeting' was exclusively about her. Gillian could tell which of the voices belonged to Luke and listened to it intently. Sounded like he was on her good side, defending her against the others. Another male voice argued against but Luke's support was joined by Pete which eventually silenced the voice that must have belonged to Nick. _Hmmph. Good,_ Gillian thought in annoyance. If he had not been a shitty shot, she would be dead now. Come to think of it, she probably owed a thank you for him too.

"If she is a doctor she could be valuable for us" the Hispanic doctor spoke. She could tell it was him, from his thick accent. "And you know that Carver would not send his medics out to look for us. Especially he wouldn’t be that stupid."

"Carlos is right", Pete's voice agreed. "She was in a pretty bad condition when we found her. She is probably not working for him. But that doesn't still take away from the fact that she is badly wounded. She needs proper care, or she ends up as a liability." 

"Or worse", a grim voice commented quietly.

"Then we give it to her", Luke sounded frustrated now. "Maybe she can - you know, help you out and all."

 _Help who out,_ Gillian thought curiously. She leaned closer, the floorboards creaking under her weight. 

"Hell no. I don't want her anywhere near me" an annoyed female voice spoke. It must have been the pregnant lady from before. Too bad, Gillian had been far from interested in midwifery. She would be no help in that issue. 

"Rebecca, calm down" a deep voice spoke almost right next to where Gillian's head was resting. She jumped a little at it but continued listening, curiously. Who would have known that eavesdropping would let her in on the group more effectively than any civil conversation would? The conversation continued its course, sides unchanging, and Gillian got tired of it. It was unlikely that she would get anything else than anxiety out of it anyway. She laid on the mattress once again, trying to close her eyes. There was something bumpy about the mattress and frustrated by this, not really seeing anything in the pitch black darkness, Gillian rolled on her side and investigated.

It was some sort of latch on which she was laying. They must have missed it, or then they just were very thick for not realizing that this was Gillian's ticket to freedom. Relying on the conversation to cover the noise, she began hacking the feeble lock off with her boot. There was really nothing in the cupboard she could utilize. Her feet were an as good tool as any.

The door creaked open, freaking Gillian out so badly that she cried in surprise. There, in the scarce light stood that young Hispanic girl from before. Gillian looked at her with honest eyes, not even trying to cover the latch on the floor. But the young one did not seem to care about it - her eyes were curiously on Gillian, swept over every inch of her body with child-like enthusiasm. She smiled carefully at Gillian.

"Who are you?"

"Gillian."

"I am Sarah. My dad said I shouldn't be here... But I wanted to meet you."

Gillian had no answers. She just moved the mattress back to its original position, keeping in mind the latch and the process she was left at - one good, swift kick would be enough to break the padlock. Sarah, however, remained persistent.

"Are you going to stay with us now?"

Gillian froze. She wanted to laugh at the little girl's face. _Hell no._ A group this big was her worst nightmare. All these mouths to feed, all these liabilities like pregnant ladies, trigger-happy farm boys and kids who clearly did not have a grasp of what was going on outside the false safety of walls, in the real world. 

"I don't know", she simply answered and turned her back to the girl - _leave me alone._ But she did not get the hint.

"W- why are your clothes so bloody? Did someone hurt you" she whispered and began trembling. "Was it one of _them?_ "

A window of opportunity opened for Gillian, and she would take it even if it meant exploiting a young girl with manipulation.

"No, Sarah", her voice was gentle as she sat up, grimacing openly from the dull pain that beamed in her left thigh. "Bad things happened to me, but it wasn't the walkers. It was humans. I need your help. Do you think you could help me?"

The girl, Sarah, quickly looked to her right. Gillian could sense an emotion of excitement starting to spread on Sarah's face. Perhaps she had never truly disobeyed her father before. She certainly was not allowed to visit Gillian in the closet, not when all of the people probably thought that she was going to turn any minute now.

"I think so..."

"Good. Now, could you find me some clean clothes? Anything will do", Gillian tried to sound as gentle as she could but her patience was wearing thin, she feared that the little house meeting would bring an end to all this. That little girl's eyes which so openly roamed on her dirty body annoyed her. She wanted to scream at her, to run and go find some wearable rag herself, anything, just so she could take off the clothes that were drenched in the blood of her loved one. 

"I can try."

And with that, Sarah was gone. She had left the door ajar but Gillian knew for better not to do the first thing that came to her mind. They would probably shoot her, and this time for real, if she tried anything - well, anything more reckless than trying to persuade one of them to help her against everybody else's wishes. She hoped that Sarah would not get into any trouble just because of her. She had nothing against children, all right. She just had not been around one in over two years now. Besides, she chuckled, she was not sure how to treat them now that the world was so different, children evolving with it.

Minutes passed and the conversation in the kitchen kept going on. They had clearly moved to talk about a different matter because they were surprisingly not arguing anymore. Their voices were quieter, like hushes, and she suspected it was both because of her and the young girl's presence in the cabin. She wondered what it was that they talked about, sounding so scared and secretive. And who the hell was this man that they suspected she was working with? Had he been the leader of the rapists from yesterday? 

Gillian got spooked when a shadow suddenly crossed the little crack of the door, but as it opened, she saw Sarah again. The young girl was carrying what seemed to be a pair of jeans, fresh white socks, a red blouse and an old-looking waxed fishing jacket that seemed cold, but would do for the lack of anything better. It was a horribly bright shade of green and would surely draw unwanted attention. But Gillian was not foolish or looking out to be mean. Instead, she thanked the girl profoundly and began undressing. After Sarah had gone she could finally take a good look at her leg. It looked a little swollen, but the jeans that the girl had brought fit her a little too loosely, being spacious enough to fit over the bandage properly. It was good. Even the socks felt so different in her feet, like a luxurious item she had gotten to experience only once in her lifetime. The shirt was a little too loose on her too, but she did not mind. It was clean - that was all that mattered. 

She had just begun to doze off as the conversation finally ended, and people began leaving the kitchen. She hoped and feared that no one would come to her little closet - if they saw the clothes god knows how they would react. She listened to people pass by, the door open and close, another slam shut, some bickering between the woman and her husband. Steps in the stairs, someone leaving the house. Nobody seemed to mind her. 

"Hey, are you doing all right?" a faint voice asked behind the door. It had to be Luke. Nobody else seemed to care for Gillian enough to worry. 

"Yes" was her simple answer. The door unlocked, and Luke stepped in. The closet had no lights, so he stood by the door frame, trying to peer in and see something. He noticed the change of clothes quickly.

"Hey..." he stepped in, closing the door after him. That was foolish, Gillian thought. If she wanted, she could take him out right now. Lunge at his throat. Snap his neck. But she did not. "You better not tell anyone who got you those clothes. For all they know, it was me, all right?" 

She nodded but realized that he could not see, instead making some sort of sound of agreement. Luke opened the door quickly perhaps realizing the situation he had put himself in, cursing himself for letting his guard down so foolishly.

"Anyway, I got you a blanket if you want one. And a pillow, too."

"Thank you."

She turned her back to him, covering herself in the blanket. _Go away._ Perhaps he would understand better than the girl?

"Well, uh. I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for now, but I am talking to them" his voice was optimistic. "I'll convince them that you're cool."

"Go now. I'm tired", Gillian said and covered her head with the pillow to signal that she was done talking. She did not really want him to go, per se, but she was offended that they treated her like this - like she was a prisoner of some sort. After all, they could have just released her. Luke left the closet and all of the light died down. It felt good to be in complete blackness, Gillian thought and moved the pillow under her head again. And perhaps the closet was good, after all. It was a tight, hard to reach spot just like those small caves in which she had used to sleep in had been. Sleeping out in the open was dangerous, and this mentality had etched into her brain for good. 

Perhaps that was why she fell asleep almost immediately and slept soundly ever since the early evening. The descending sun colored the sky beautifully orange and pink but those colors did not reach her dark, pitch black closet where she slumbered, dreaming of Hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to sketch the clothes that Sarah gives Gillian in this chapter. 
> 
> [Here](https://i.imgur.com/bLHNSYh.jpg)
> 
> (plus an obligatory face pic of her although at this point it's not entirely accurate)


	5. Encounter

_"Hey? Is there someone in there?"_

The Travelier motel was ghostly quiet. It had been quiet for many days now - the silence was occasionally broken by a passing by car, a helicopter, or a groaning, crying, and usually very much dying, person. All those three were scarcer the more days passed, which was good for the few surviving people. There was only so many farms and smaller towns to infect. However, most of the undead still lingered around in the surrounding woods and sometimes they wandered across the parking lot of the lone motel, bumping into dead bodies and crashed cars along their way, attracted by the freshly dead corpses and noises that echoed from the nearby bigger towns. Although the explosions and sounds of sirens were lesser every passing day, they still drew the attention of many when they pierced the thick, silent air.

The girl sitting in room number 3, second floor, had already started to lose track of everything - time, hunger, sense of humanity. She slept on the floor because her bed was propped against the door in case anyone tried to break in. Some had tried. Around her were scattered pieces of food wrappers, empty plastic bottles, and painkillers. The small sink of the motel's kitchen was filled with empty beer cans and a half drank bottle of vodka. The room smelled like vomit.

_"Hey? Who's there? Do you need help?”_

The messy creature raised her head from the sweat-stained mattress to investigate this weird sound she had not heard in such a long time. She was almost used to hear guttural screams and sobs, cries for help, pleading - anything but someone's worried, muffled voice behind her door. She scrambled on her feet as fast as she could and darted to the door. Had help arrived? The military, perhaps? 

"Leave me alone!", a high-pitched scream echoing from the neighboring apartment suddenly scared Gillian, messy and disheveled Gillian, so badly that she was almost to drop the heavy bedframe on her toes. No one was there for her. No one knew that she was trapped in her motel room alone, hungry and so lost that it ached physically. They had spotted the occupant next door. 

"I can help you!", the same soft-spoken male voice insisted, having moved on the left. He was talking to the woman next door. Gillian knew it was a woman - she had arrived at the Travelier motel two days ago and immediately locked herself in the room. Occasionally the silence of the motel had been broken by her cries, but they had stopped a while ago. Truthfully, Gillian had thought that she was dead. 

Sounded like she was very wrong. 

”Please, you don’t understand! Go away!”

Those shrieks would surely draw the attention of every passing by the undead, Gillian thought, and the soft-spoken male seemed to share the sentiment.

"I have a group. I'll get you help", he promised rushedly, and Gillian could hear that he had moved to lean against the locked door of apartment number 4. She too leaned against the wall to hear the conversation better.

"I'll be back soon. Stay put."

She could hear footsteps that ran away from the wooden dock, all the way down the stairs and to the distance. Not long after the first groans of the walkers began closing into the motel, and she feared that whoever was behind this rescue mission would not make it. Was it even worth it to rescue a lone woman? _Two lone women,_ she corrected herself. _I am here too. And I am not going to die here if I have a chance to break free._

First, she would need to get rid of the heavy bed frame that laid against her only way out. She had been in much fuller power those few days ago when she had moved it there, but now, she was malnourished and tired and ached all over. Her eyes drifted to the front window that had been strengthened by thick metal bars. There was no way out through it. 

The first kick did nothing except hurt the girl's leg. 

"Fuck", she whispered in pain and held her shin, grimacing in pain and frustration. Kicks would not help. They would just burn her already nonexistent energy to nothingness. 

Of course, there was the other window, she reluctantly remembered as her eyes picked up the descending sun's last rays. This window was not covered in bars, but the reason for that was the 15 feet drop on the ground. Gillian was not sure if she could take it. But if it meant that she could be rescued, she would at least try.

"I'm not dying in this dump", she prepped herself. "I will go out and find help."

Almost tripping in the trash that was littered on the floor she walked to the window, barely cramming it over. The drop seemed so high, but at least it would be softened by a few bushes that had been planted underneath the windows for decoration purposes, Gillian reasoned herself as she peeked out from the window. The girl silently thanked the florist in her head for possibly saving her a few cracked bones, and without thinking it much, jumped.  
-  
She had hit her head against the pavement during the fall. As Gillian finally awoke, she found herself lying amidst a boxwood bush that scratched her cheeks. The sun had long set, and the only sound she could hear was the cooing of a pigeon somewhere near her. Hazily knowing that laying around was as good as a deathwish, she scrambled on her feet and assessed the damage of the fall. 

Other than a hurting head she was okay. The hit had definitely stirred her thoughts apart, and she began remembering exactly why she had made such a suicide jump - only seconds later when she could hear a gunshot ring across the other side of the motel. Was the man back with his group? How long had she been passed out? 

She tried her hardest to sneak around the corner but made an awful lot of noise, very similar to a clumsy, careless undead. Gillian's face was bent in a grimace and only later would she remember that her clothes were covered in vomit and sweat, but at the moment the thought of finally finding people, real, alive people, hazed her mind and made her forget the most fundamental, simplest thing a survivor could forget. The rules at the end of the world were a lot different. They would probably mistake her for a walker and shoot her at the sight, but she found no strength to speak. Only quiet, whispering sobs escaped past her lips as she pushed the vegetation aside, cramming her body through a small gap in the fence that had probably kept any walkers from attacking her while she was passed out.

She saw them walking away from the scene somberly. There was a tall black male, a woman dressed in official-looking attire and a shorter man with a cap on his head. In the hassle, Gillian had forgotten to think about the fate of her neighbor. If she had only looked upon the deck, at her right, she would have seen the splatters of blood and brain matter on the wall of the motel. 

"Please don't leave me", her quiet whisper rang to deaf ears.

Gillian's frail figure followed the group quietly for a few steps until she could no longer hold up to their pace. She fell on her knees and cried in shock, hoping that they would hear her, turn around, anything. Just as she was about to open her mouth to cry out for their attention, a gun fired.

A dead silence fell over the Travelier motel that night.


	6. Past

An unpierced, thick silence had fallen inside the secluded cabin a long time ago. Nobody really had a working wristwatch anymore but they knew that the strange girl had slept for almost the whole day already - unless she was dead, of course, Nick suggested while eyeing out the door to the cupboard his shotgun tightly against his right thigh. 

"She was shot. Might be."

A few hours ago the group had decided to draw stick to pick who would check on the possible corpse in the closet. Luke lost the bet on half purpose, although he kept putting the deed off by dismissing his fears as worry that he would wake the sleeping girl. He had been increasingly worried about the girl's state, all right, he admitted to himself while he fixed the position of his machete strap across his chest. They had left her unfed for hours now, and the little amount of water she had drunk with his aid while being on the verge of passing out was not enough to keep her from drying up. He hoped that she was just sleeping. Although she had been as light as feathers, he thought back to his words back when Pete and he had found her, he still hated being around lurkers. They were standing behind the door now, ready to step in. 

"Watch out for me, man" Luke hissed at Nick who was half prepared to blast the girl's brains out upon inspecting even the smallest movement. He nodded. Luke, careful not to make too much noise peaked inside the closet.

"Easy, easy!", almost instantly he hushed Nick away and stepped into the small space, afraid that the trigger-fingered man would blast both his and the girl’s guts out. He had no fear upon the sight in the closet.

That was because inside the small closet, Gillian was fast asleep. The little light that had slipped past the crack of the door had revealed a hue of redness, blood, that had resumed on her cheeks coloring them faintly pink. She was snoozing softly - her slumber did not go interrupted even when the orange-clad man entered the closet, kneeling next to her. His hand pushed her a little, softly persuading her awake - his other hand was ready to grab the machete if all this was just a trick of his mind and the girl would attack, alive or dead.  
She began stirring awake and Luke had never been so relieved to hear someone breathe before. 

"Hey. You want something to eat?"

Gillian, in her confused sleepy state, looked at Luke without really seeing anything. Where was she? What was going on? _Where's Hunter?_ The blood loss had left her so weak, but at least the rest had recharged her energy a little. 

"We made some food for you. It's fish. Bet you haven't had that in a while", the man continued and she could tell from his voice that he was smiling. Fish, huh? She had already forgotten what it tasted like. 

"Okay" her weak voice agreed, and she got on her feet, barely. With Luke's help, they both entered the kitchen where the lonely table was set for one. 

"There you go", Luke encouraged her. Gillian sat down awkwardly, eyeing the place out. There was a towering pile of dishes at the sink, and the room smelled strongly like fish. It was appetizing, she admitted amidst her yawn, and looked at the plate which was filled with something gray and pink. Flashing half of a smile at Luke's general direction, she began eating with a good appetite. When had she eaten last time? She could not remember. They had run without food for days with Hunter before his passing and hoped that on the night when everything had gone to shit, their luck for the game would have changed. Luke who was observing the girl from the opposite side of the table seemed to remember something and bounced from his seat only to return to the table with two cans of beer in his hands. Gillian, delighted by this, looked at him with eyes that mirrored disbelief, amusement, and nostalgia. Oh, how she had missed beer. Hunter had not allowed her to touch alcohol at all. He had been wise, reasoned his choices - _you will get yourself killed more easily if you are drunk_ \- but damn did she still miss it and the drunken bliss.

"Thanks."

While spooning down the food, Gillian sunk to her thoughts that had begun to settle down. She remembered thinking hastily that everything that Hunter had taught her during all those months the two had traveled together, were quickly slipping out from her mind. She had probably broken half a dozen rules already. _Never trust strangers._ There she was, sitting with an unknown man eating food provided by him, drinking a beer provided by him. For all she knew, it could be poisoned. The food on her plate probably was not human meat though, she shuddered, reminiscing a certain farm back in Macon.

"Want more?" Luke intervened and she nodded, following him to the makeshift stove. He dumped a huge bowlful of the fishy porridge on her plate and she returned to the table, smiling weakly.

"Are you feeling all right?" 

Her leg had started to ache again and it probably showed on her face for Luke to ask such things. _Patch yourself properly._ Gillian had not attempted to do anything but run away after being shot in her leg. The Gillian she thought she was would have probably sutured the leg up already. Or the Gillian Hunter had thought she was? She did not know. 

_It's better to be alone. Don't trust groups._

Her eyes darted to look at Luke, reassuring him that everything was okay.

_The nice ones are the worst._

"Finish up in peace", Luke encouraged her and she realized that she had stopped. "You look very hungry."

"Yeah" the girl agreed thinly, downing the rest of the meal with big spoonfuls. She should start forgetting about Hunter eventually and make her own damned rules. Hunter might have had this whole group killed already, but Gillian owed the cabin's people - and despite being dependent on Hunter's skills before his passing, she had not always agreed on his way of running things. After finishing the dish she could finally lean back, crack open the beer, and relax a little. Luke who had seemed to wait patiently for her to get comfortable finally decided it was time to ask the burning hot questions. He leaned closer. 

"We had a little chat about what to do", his voice was quieter than before. "and I think most of us agree that you are welcomed to stay. That is of course" he rushed to add awkwardly, "if you want to stay."

Gillian's eyes were calculative as she looked at him. 

"I assume this is some sort of initiative" she joked dryly and made Luke chuckle. Quilty as charged.

"If you want to put it that way, sure. Do you want to share?"

Gillian nodded in her thoughts, fixing her position. It was going to be a long story for sure.

”I was with a bigger group when it all began”, she said and took a long chug of the can of beer. She felt almost comfortable like this - just the two of them sitting at the empty kitchen table, no interruptions. The room was dimly lit with candles that smelled like herbs and the walls were adorned with paintings of fruit bowls and fishermen. No matter how ambient the space felt, the mood was still anxious underneath the false feelings of home - those two figures who sat in the false comfort of the kitchen were full of questions for each other. Gillian admitted to herself that she trusted Luke even though they had only known each other for hours you could count with one hand's fingers. There was something homely about him, those brown eyes, the smile that often lingered on his lips when she caught him staring. Or perhaps it had been those arms, covered with dirty orange sleeves, that had carried her to safety that now conjured false hopes of safety into the disheveled girl's mind. He was still sitting across her at the table, fiddling the can of beer in his hand. 

”I met them at this motel where I was staying... Everything had gone to shit and I had barricaded myself into one of the rooms. Thought I was going to die. Then they showed up.”

She had been curing her 4th of July fuckups with vodka and chocolate with the intention to see the International Cherry Blossom Day, as the first victim had been claimed at the Travelier Motel. She had been sluggish to react to the awakening chaos and for good - it did not take long for the other occupants to go crazy, and the place to get overrun by the undead. Those who had gone outdoors to look what the trouble had been, were the first casualties that killed the rest. By that time she had had enough time to barricade the door with her heavy bed. She had waited there for days, hoping that someone, anyone would have come to her aid. An image of the many people Gillian had once called her family was conjured before her eyes. Doug and Mark. Kenny and his family. Lilly, Lee. Ben, even Larry. 

”There used to be eleven of us. A few kids. I won't lie, it was rough. We had a lot of problems... people not coming along. It had all kind of went to shit before Hunter came along.”

Luke’s expression was one of confusion and guilt. She knew he wanted to ask what had happened to all of the people. And to tell that, she was going to. 

”Had been an Atlanta sheriff deputy, Hunter I mean. He knew Lee, one of the people. The nicest of them all, I used to think. He was even looking after this little girl Clementine. Said that they were going to Savannah to get to her parents.”

Luke’s expression told both of them that they shared similar thoughts. It was unlikely that her parents had been alive if the two had even made it to the city. Sometimes Gillian wished that she knew.

”As a deputy Hunter knew of his case. I think he mentioned knowing Lee's parents too. Anyway. It was a mess, is all I know. Apparently, the guy was a murderer, but aren’t we all now?” 

Gillian laughed dryly and took another sip of beer. Its malty taste numbed her palates. When was the last time she had had a beer? Perhaps during the 4th of July party that had possibly both saved her life, as well as ruined it. If she had not been in that motel room when the Asian kid had come to rescue the other girl in room 4, the one next to hers... If she had jumped out of the window to escape them, not to go after them? Where would she be now? She decided not to bring up anything more personal, at least not now. Luke’s chocolate eyes on her were suddenly almost uncomfortably friendly. She did not want him knowing too much about her. At least... yet.  
She leaned back in her chair almost nonchalantly. 

”Anyway. The group was a mess, alright. We faced some messed up shit at one farm which led to the death of uh... somebody important. So Hunter manipulated me to abandon the group with him but not without taking Lilly with us. She was the daughter of the guy who died at the farm... I- let’s just say that it didn’t go all that well. So Hunter and I end up together. We have - had been traveling up north. No particular reason why though... I guess Hunter never got to tell me why.”

She knew it was a partial lie. He had wanted to look out for Lilly and the others. All of the survivors they had met during their travels had told the same: North was the way to go. Cold winters would slow the walkers down. Lilly and the others being there was an as good guess as any. 

”What became of the others- I really don’t know... Hunter was- well... I am all alone now.”

Gillian finished the beer quickly and landed it back on the table with a soft clink. The candles burned dimmer now as if to signal that the woman had reached the end of her story. Luke had not even touched his drink. 

”Man, that’s something”, he finally mumbled. Gillian was amused at his reaction. Perhaps even mad. It was not like it had been a lie, yet the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. 

”Right? Who knew life would go to shit just like that. I didn’t.”

”Well... I’ve been traveling with Nick and his family from the very beginning. His mom passed not too long ago... give him some time, will you? I know he’s a grumpy trigger finger but...”

”I get you”, Gillian whispered and turned her eyes to the kitchen window where the baseball-cap-wearing silhouette of Nick was cast. He was with his uncle, Pete must have been his name, discussing wildly but not loud enough for the two to hear it. Although muffled, she could hear bits and pieces of their conversation. _Dangerous. Carver. Mom._

”It’s good to have people you trust by your side”, Gillian concluded with a monotone voice. Luke smiled a little knowing fully where she was getting at. He, without giving it a second thought, leaned over to hold her hand. Her eyes darted to look yet she found no embarrassment in his.

”Hey. Trust me, if you want, you can stay. People will grow on you. You seem very nice, is what I’m saying.”

Gillian smiled a little and fought against an involuntary cringe that the man’s hand on hers conjured from deep within. 

”Thank you, Luke...”

Perhaps finally realizing what a rookie mistake he had made, Luke leaned back on his chair as well, comically scratching the back of his head. 

"I-"

The door opened abruptly and gloomy Nick walked in. He had the same rifle in his hand that had almost blasted Gillian's brains out earlier and so it was understandable that her first reaction was to lean away, to pierce the young man with dubious eyes.  
But Nick was not there to hurt her. He walked up to the table and, not facing her from his shyness, sat on a chair furthest away from her.

"Look... Uh... I'm sorry for being a dick out there. What I did earlier was not cool."

She was surprised if anything. Her eyes looked to Luke who nodded a little, turning his gaze to his friend. Gillian's followed.

"I got kinda aggro. Sorry about it", he looked away.

"Don't hold it against him. He's... had it tough." 

"I guess we all have our moments", he argued quietly and looked at his friend compactly. Gillian followed quietly and noticed Luke's hesitation.

"You definitely had one out there", his words were heavy with an implied quilt that made Nick look away once again.

"You were just protecting your friends..." Gillian intervened in the conversation with a soft, reassuring voice. "I get it."

These words seemed to conjure courage from Nick who looked at her the first time, properly in the eyes. The worried lines on his face softened a little as he flicked a piece of dirt off the table.

"I didn't mean to be so harsh. We just... We have had bad experiences before."

"We've all had them", Gillian agreed and mirrored his shyness, looking down at her lap. Luke leaned a little closer across the table.

"Nick lost his mom", he said softly. "We took care of someone who'd got bit, and-"

"It was my fault."

Luke stopped and Gillian looked at Nick who had spoken. 

"It was _no one's_ fault. We thought we could control it, but..."

"We couldn't. Anyway", he was looking at the girl again. "I hope you can understand."

Gillian did and hoped that the smile on her face would allude him to realize it. Luke had been observing the two and decided to intervene - the smile she flashed at his friend was quickly starting to bother him. 

”Are you feeling tired still? Or, hungry? Anything?” he insisted.

Gillian shook her head but backtracked immediately. Her nap had been too short for the state she was in, which was bad. She would need all the sleep she could get, and soon, too, or she would never return from the weak state. 

”Actually, I wouldn’t mind a little sleep. A lot of sleep. Who am I kidding? I’m dead tired.”

”You want to join us, looking through the place?” Luke asked Nick who just shook his head as an answer. 

"Let's go then."

Gillian, without looking at the hunched dark man before her, got up and followed Luke’s lead all the way across the familiar, cozy living room, up the stairs to a small neat room. Perhaps it had been the master bedroom once- but now a big wooden vanity which had possibly once been the pride and joy of the room had been discarded against the wall, abandoned and long lost its importance. The curtains were drawn down and Gillian could not help but pay mind to the scattered clothing on the floor. Boys will be boys, even in the apocalypse. The master bed looked comfortable, but her eyes were on the sofa that had also been pushed to the wall. Next to it was an unfinished board game. She chuckled imagining the two men playing it, Nick losing his cool and Luke trying to calm him down. 

”We sleep here with Nick. There’s a free bed just perfect for you. I... figured you'd not want to sleep in the cupboard anymore”, he read her thoughts and pointed towards the sofa. 

”Looks better than anything I’ve slept on for ages”, Gillian spoke with a soft voice. ”If you don’t mind?”

”No, go ahead”, Luke sounded flustered as he hurried to exit the room. He remained in the doorway and watched Gillian who sat down, sighing at the softness of the sofa. Oh, she was going to sleep well tonight. 

”It is soon my turn to be on the lookout. I’ll let Nick know you’re here... we don’t want any surprises, you know?”

”Yeah. That’s probably a wise thing to do”, she smiled a little, already feeling her eyes drooping. It was not going to take long for her to fall asleep.  
”Sleep well then”, Luke said quietly, closing the door behind him. Gillian laid down on the soft bed and closed her eyes. She was knocked out in minutes and slept soundly despite the buzz in downstairs.

Not long after falling asleep she woke up to the sounds of the two men entering the room. As quiet as they tried to be, their steps made awfully loud creaks that woke Gillian in milliseconds. She decided not to show it though. She did not need apologies now - and she was curious to know what they were doing in the room. Surely they would not sleep in there, not knowing if she was going to turn or not? Her doubts were confirmed almost immediately.

”What if she’s going to turn?” 

It was Nick’s voice, low and dubious. He had remained in the doorframe, but Luke was standing almost next to her bed. He looked at his friend in agitation. 

"Why would she, man? She wasn't bitten. She's fine", his whisper was almost too loud. 

"That's what we thought with... You know."

Annoyed at the man's words Gillian furrowed her eyebrows. She would never risk the lives of others for nothing trying to cover a bite. It was one of those things Hunter had etched into her brains. She would accept her fate when it was time. But now, she was not dying - far from it. 

”You know I can hear you, right?”

”Sorry, sorry”, Luke’s voice was awkward as he soothed the girl down. ”We’ll be quiet. We just wanted to see if you're okay."

"I am."

Her blunt answer was enough to convince the two to leave the room. They closed the door and sneaked to the couches in downstairs - Sarah was asleep too, and if they woke her up, Carlos would give them an earful. The girl had been anxious to meet Gillian despite her father's objections and orders to stay away from the stranger. 

"What do you think of her?", Luke asked Nick once the two had comfortably set down. His broody friend looked at him confused. _What the fuck was that supposed to mean?_

"You think she can stay?" he quickly corrected himself and Nick could breathe again. Had Luke noticed how heavily he judged the new girl with his stare? Probably. Nick had noticed him do the same, but with the damned ever-living optimism Luke had towards everyone.

"What the fucking ever", Nick's answer was characteristic to him. "As long as she is nice."

 _Yeah,_ Luke thought, looking up to the closed door in upstairs. He really hoped that she was.


	7. Calm

Gillian was a little hesitant to go downstairs in the following morning, and for a good reason. When she entered the kitchen she almost crashed into the pregnant curly-haired woman from yesterday who had been very much against allowing Gillian to even _live_ after crossing paths with the people that she had taken upon to call as the cabin group. Her name was Rebecca, she recalled bitterly as the woman backed away from the door cussing her clumsiness. 

"Good morning", Gillian answered quietly and stood in the door frame, awkwardly eyeing the woman who turned around and cast a sharp glare towards her, probably ready to throw some hands at her if it came to that. 

"I can't believe you're still here", was what Rebecca said before resuming washing the pile of dishes. Offended as ever, Gillian backed away only to bump into something solid. 

"Jesus!" she cried in surprise, already turning around, preparing to face a walker. Her reaction felt so out of place as she met the eyes of a familiar young girl. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you", the girl spoke shyly, looking away. Her name was... Sarah, Gillian dug her mind. She had been so out of it when the girl had helped her yesterday. 

"Hi, Sarah”, she said confidently hoping that her memory did not betray her. 

"You remember my name!" the girl beamed with joy. ”My dad told a lot about you yesterday. He said that you would be staying with us for now. He also said that you're a doctor.”

”Maybe”, Gillian hesitated a little. She wanted to run away from these people, god forbid. She had lied about being a doctor. Some members of the group straight up wanted her dead. The sharp sound of rusty door hinges alerted her and she feared that Rebecca would pop up from somewhere to object on Sarah's words. 

"I see you're up all good", it was no one but Luke who spoke with a smile on his face. He was standing by the door that led outside, leaning against its wooden frame. The rays of sunlight made Gillian squint her eyes involuntarily. She had gotten so used to the darkened cabin that the outdoors felt like a literal light at the end of the tunnel. A smile fought its way on her face. She was scared of her foolish reaction, but what could she do? She had begun to like him a little. And, she admitted to herself, seeing him beat another earful from Rebecca.

"Yeah. Good morning. Sarah and I were getting to know each other."

"Gillian was a doctor! Just like my dad! Can you believe that", Sarah chimed and took her hand into a pier-like grip, bouncing on her heels. Her mellow features were bent into a loving smile, one which infected Gillian immediately. She did not know who she was becoming - children had never amused her, just scared her.

"Well, uh, technically", she whispered to Luke and followed Sarah, who lead her towards the man. 

"Come! Let's go outside and you have to tell me all about yourself. Let's all be friends!"

"Yeah, I'd like that", Luke said with a smile, allowing the girls to pass by him. The look on Gillian's face was full of confusion, masked with a smile that looked more fearful than happy as she had intended it to be. She was not good with kids. Far from it. It did not really help that ever since the world in its conventional sense had ended, her interactions with children had been nonexistent. She decided to give it a try at least. Sarah sat her down on the stairs. Gillian, hoping that all would go even relatively well, sat tightly next to her. She smiled weakly when Sarah took a grip of her pinky finger with her own, squeezing it painfully.

"A pinky promise seals it! We will be forever friends, Gillian! Right?" 

"I guess", she answered slowly and looked at Luke who was standing next to the wall, leaning against it eyes glued to the treeline. She appreciated his concern but felt a ting of annoyance hitting over her. She could very well take care of herself, and even Sarah, all at once. She did not need a watchdog.

"Can you tell me about your family?" Sarah asked eagerly. Gillian, lowering her gaze, began talking about life back at home. From the corner of her eye, she saw how someone entered the door, motioning for Luke to come back inside. So he did, after giving a quick glance at the girls who were already laughing at Gillian's story about that one time when she had crashed her first car to the newly painted fence surrounding her family’s house. 

Eventually Luke joined them, smiling brightly as he coaxed to sit on few steps lower to the girls, facing Gillian. The girl could immediately tell that he was told to keep an eye on the two, by whom, she was quite sure she knew. Darting her eyes up to the window straight above them, she saw Carlos watching the two. He did not flinch, look away, there was no regret or shame written on his face now that he got caught from spying on them. Truthfully she was surprised that the strict doctor had even allowed her to talk to his daughter.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Gillian?"

The question came out of nowhere, ambushed her, hit her hard like a smack across her face even if she tried to act like the question had been silly.

"No", she deadpanned, unable to hold her grudge towards the young girl. "The closest thing I had, died yesterday."

”I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked...”

At least she acknowledged it.

”It’s okay! You could’ve not known”, her voice was forced to sound cheerful and Luke caught on it immediately. 

”Maybe you could tell something about yourself, Sarah”, he interrupted the two. Gillian was relieved by his interference, but could not help the annoyance that had begun to bud inside her. She was not a damsel in distress. She truly did not need his help. 

”Actually, I think I need to see your dad now,” Gillian said and nodded her head to the general direction of the window where Carlos was still observing. Sarah looked defeated, but Luke quickly diverted her attention to something else, allowing Gillian to slip past the two and head inside. She was almost to run into Nick who was standing behind the door, and did not even think to apologize to him. She saw Carlos standing at the end of the stairs and headed to his way.

"I could take a look at that leg of yours now", the doctor called her immediately when she stepped in front of him. She knew that he wanted to talk about Sarah. Anger rose inside her. Sarah, while the two had chatted about life, had involuntarily told her enough - she knew nothing about the state of the world right now. She had no idea what walkers were - what danger they posed.  
Gillian followed Carlos to upstairs, all the way to the room he shared with his daughter. 

"Wait here. I will get some supplies."

When he returned Gillian was standing defiantly in front of the window, arms crossed across her chest. The lack of light in the room created sharp shadows on her gloomy face. But even through the darkness, her eyes locked tightly into Carlos's, piercing them with a judging stare.

"We need to talk about Sarah."

Carlos had known that she would catch his daughter's behavior too. He had seen how carefully she treated her daughter- and it was only fair that she decided to confront him about it. He landed the supplies on the table and motioned her to sit down. He lit a few candles and moved them closer to aid his examination. Gillian complied with restricted movements that mirrored agitation but said nothing when the doctor handed a flashlight to her to shine on the wound. 

"Please, take off your jeans," he said professionally and Gillian complied with similar respect and maturity. 

"My daughter is easily disturbed”, Carlos began explaining, unwrapping his previously hasty bandages around the girl's shaking leg. ”You should not put your nose into business that isn't yours."

"Oh, but it is now", Gillian murmured lowly as Carlos, after assessing the situation, promptly leaned closer her leg to get a better access to the gunshot wound. Gillian leaned back on the table, somewhat ashamed of the vulnerable position she was in. But the flashlight stayed pointed at the leg, not shaking. "I feel an immense need to protect her because of her state of mind."

He examined the leg in peace not allowing his emotions to get the best of him.

"The bullet went straight through", she whispered as his fingers bent her leg to see better. Murmuring a confirming answer the doctor reached to grab some cotton balls and alcohol. She knew to prepare for a mean sting, already biting her lip in anticipation. 

"I have things under control. Leave the worrying for me."

His voice was slightly strained but hands as gentle as ever as he drew out the suture kit. No words were exchanged as he began preparing the emergency procedure. 

"Well", Gillian flinched involuntarily as he prickled the needle into her sensitive, swollen skin. "I am just worried because you are trying to wrap her in a safety net that won't protect her at all."

He stopped suturing the wound but did not raise his eyes. Gillian knew she had hit a nerve.

"Sarah is everything I have left", he simply spoke, continuing his work. He was a bit rougher with the stitching now, she could tell, whining in pain as he snapped the suture in half. 

"I know. She still needs to know. Please, you have to save her from herself."

"We take you in, waste our supplies on you and this is your thanks? You don't even know her."

She could hear others' conversation dying out downstairs.

"You can't shelter her forever", Gillian whispered to Carlos's hunched figure. He had covered his face with his broad palms, and his thick hair had fallen over, effectively rendering his face completely covered for her. Gillian wanted to hug him, but restrained herself hesitantly, instead remaining leaned against the table where the supplies for the quick stitching still laid.

”Sorry.”

The simple word conjured him to raise his head and face Gillian with weary eyes. She looked back all previous defiance dead in her eyes. She sympathized with him, all right. Caring about Sarah meant caring about her father too, who inherently was what kept her going on. 

"She likes me. I like her. I can teach her how to take care of herself."

"No", he said. "I need to teach her. I am her father."

"You're obviously not capable of being objective about things that consider her" Gillian's voice was harsh and the sympathy she had moments ago felt, escaped from her grip. She took brisk steps to the door after abruptly pulling the jeans back on.  
Carlos's voice was grave but defeated, yet still, he spoke. 

"You leave my daughter alone."

"I don't know if I can."

-

Gillian was laying on the sofa when Luke entered the room. The argument with Carlos, as well as the physical strain of the leg, had left her tired and sore and she had attempted to sleep it off. Her peace had been uninterrupted for hours but stirred now. Seeing the man's worried face peak in from the crack of the door immediately flared up Gillian's annoyance, but still, she allowed him to enter the room. He walked to his own bed and sat on the edge of it.

”I heard some yelling”, his words were full of worry which almost revolted Gillian. ”Is everything all right?”

”No.”

"What is it? Are you all right?"

"I am not the problem", Gillian said snarkily and rose from her bed. "You know Sarah. You have seen what she's like. I don't even need to see her out there to know that she'll get herself killed the moment she is left alone."

Luke had no words. He agreed with her, but something in him did not allow him to pick sides like that. Especially with the new girl. They would just accuse him of... Well, screw that, Luke thought and shook his head at her words. She was leaving the room, already lingering at the door.

"I know, Gillian. But you gotta respect Carlos's ways-"

She ignored his words, walking past the cozy living room where Nick and Pete were playing chess, straight out of the door to the porch. She had slept for a long while, it seemed. The night air greeted her with a brisk coldness that effectively hit some sense into the mess of emotions that ran wild. Gillian breathed in, closed her eyes and stood there, in complete silence. She heard no walkers, sensed no danger. 

Finally, someone opened the door and stepped onto the porch with her. She already knew who it was. He had probably been talking with the group first and was back to tell her that she should leave. That she had crossed a line with her behavior before. The steps walked closer to her.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how to handle people anymore", she whispered teary-eyed. "It's been so long since I've even cared. And now that I do..."

She leaned against the railing and breathed in the cold night air. She would definitely need a new coat soon, the shivers told her. A mist was dancing from the forest, engulfing the grass into its embrace slowly. The East wind blew the smell of rot from their right. Luke noticed the girl's shivers and moved next to her, close enough to radiate some warmth. She crossed her hands and allowed her brief smile to mirror gratitude. For a while they just stood in silence, watching the night sky and the mist which had paved its way covering almost the whole yard now. The foul smell had passed, and Gillian could hear some nocturnal birds singing. It was peaceful, she thought and allowed her eyes to flutter shut. 

"Do you think you're going to stay?" Luke spoke finally. His eyes had been fixed to the points of his shoes, but carefully glided to examine the look on Gillian's face. She had closed her eyes but her eyebrows were knitted slightly, fine lines forming on her forehead. They disappeared when she opened her eyes and looked at the sky above.

"Yes. I think you people need me more than you even realize", she nudged Luke's arm to signal the sarcasm, but he did not laugh.

"That's probably truer than you know."

The situation was growing more intimate by every passing second and they both sensed it. Confused at these feelings she was experiencing so quickly, Gillian turned to lean her back against the railing and faced Luke directly. 

”There’s something you’re not telling me.”

She did not intend to be so blunt, but Luke’s reaction was exactly the one of a guilty person’s. She could hear him shifting his weight around. Knowing her straightforwardness had caught him off guard, she proceeded as bluntly. Whilst resting after the argument, Gillian's thoughts had begun to drift to the name that seemed to linger heavy in the air. What were they so afraid of? Who was the person they were hunting out? Were they the hunters - or were they the ones being chased?

”Who is Carver?”

Luke had known to expect that eventually, Gillian would catch up on the secret. 

”It’s a long story...” he tried to evade her.

”Tell me. We have all the time in the world.”

Luke moved his eyes to the sky. His jawline, previously so tensed and sharp, softened and eventually a calm expression spread on his face. Gillian moved closer. 

”Carver- or Bill, William... He was the leader of the previous place where we stayed. A hardware store not too far away from here. You said your group had it hard? Well, so did we.”

Nodding as a sign of understanding, the girl leaned back to her original position next to Luke. 

”Go on.”

”We had... disagreements about the way things should be run. Bill and I. He was very undisputed about his opinions. Wasn't afraid of using violence to get his point through. Anyway. We just... We were done with it. So we ran." 

”Wow... I wouldn’t want to cross paths with him”, she shivered a little. Luke nodded his head- tell me about it, his eyes said. 

"Rebecca and him... He seems to think the baby is his."

Gillian thought about Rebecca. She was a damned spitfire, and was she not married too? What in her possibly could have attracted Carver so much? As she thought about the adamant pregnant woman, understanding quickly dawned on her. If Carver was after Rebecca, she probably had a good reason to be wary of strangers. Thinking back to their first meeting Gillian recalled Rebecca to have suspected that she worked for this Carver. She hoped that whatever was beginning to aspire between her and the group would convince the woman that she was good - she was not on any asshole's side.

”It’s getting cold”, Gillian spoke after some time had passed. ”Let’s go back inside.”

”Sure. It’s Carlos’s turn to guard", Luke's words seemed hesitant at the mention of Carlos's name. 

”Wait. Send him out. I want to talk to him. And uh... tell him that I’m going to be civil this time.”

"Are you sure?"

His uncertainty was justified, but Gillian decided that if she was going to stay with the others, she should at least try to make more friends besides Luke and Sarah. Hell, she would probably have to get to know even Rebecca better. Her calm expression was enough to convince Luke that the fighting was done and over, and he left to fetch Carlos with a budding hope in his chest. Maybe all was going to turn all right? They would all grow on Gillian and welcome her in the group. They could all move away from Carver's threat, and maybe... Maybe they could have something. Gillian and him. He liked her a lot. 

"Gillian wants to talk to you."

She was something else, she stood out in the masses that admittedly were few nowadays. Had he ever met someone that cared so much about strangers, like Gillian did of Sarah? He suspected that before the end of the world she would have not piqued his interest at all - but now, a fresh breeze of humanity was welcomed by even the most revered thrill-seekers.

-  
Gillian was still leaning against the railing as Carlos's stern figure approached her. She had cried, he noticed, instantly thinking that the wound on her thigh might have hurt. Preparing for the worst he stood next to her - but Gillian was not about to complain, she was ashamed. 

"What is it?" he asked bluntly, not intending to sound so harsh yet making no effort to allude the girl think to otherwise.

”I want to apologize. It’s just that... I don’t want to see another dead little girl. I like your daughter a lot.”

She reached her hand and held Carlos’s arm for a brief moment. He nodded in agreement and with that, they had settled whatever disagreements they had had. His face softened a little when his thoughts turned to Sarah's _madre,_ his late wife. She would have liked Gillian. 

"I have never met anyone who cares about Sarah as much as her mother did", Carlos finally spoke, spilling his thoughts out loud. It was too late to back down now. "She fell victim of the lurkers in the first few days. Sarah still doesn't know. There was nothing I could do, but if denying the truth keeps her going, I'm willing to keep lying."

Carlos did not give his daughter enough credit - Gillian had learned that Sarah already knew about her mother's fate while the two had chatted on the porch earlier. For his sake, Gillian decided to keep quiet. Perhaps Carlos needed to feel the sense of control over anything, anyone, even at the expense of his daughter - at times like these she could not blame him. 

"I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology."

Gillian left Carlos to stand in his thoughts knowing that he had not intended to talk about his wife like that. It was probably wisest not to stir anything further, she thought and stepped back into the warmth of the cabin. Almost immediately she was greeted by Luke who had been inconspicuously watching the door, staying alerted for when Gillian would return. He was sitting in the living room with Nick and Pete, and they had talked about moving again. The spot they had found might have been secluded, but Carver was thorough in his searches. Deciding that it was not Gillian's concern, yet, they changed the tone of the conversation into a much lighter one. 

”Come to join us!” Luke sounded happy, smiled even, like he so often did.  
But Gillian wanted to say no. The first syllable was already rolling past her lips, but just as it was about to escape from her mouth she decided to ignore the initial thought, and throw herself into the new social situation, one in which she had not been in such a long time. She remembered her thoughts from before. She needed to get to know the others. So instead of sitting in the empty kitchen, or going upstairs to bed (which, God forbid, did sound like a solid plan), she jumped over the back of the couch, snuggly between Luke and Pete. The game of chess had been finished in the impeccable victory of Pete's, and Gillian could tell that Nick had sulked over the loss by the way his shoulders were set, stiff and defiant.

”Since you're thinking about staying, we all want to get to know you better”, Pete said with his gruff voice, eliciting a faint smile from Gillian. Her eyes quickly moved to Nick who was sitting on a bench, looking at the three with sharp eyes. She smiled at him too, but he was quick to move his eyes away. 

”Well... Gee, what should I tell you?”

”We heard you’re a doctor”, Luke said next to her. She had not noticed his hand, laying so perfectly calmly behind her back, but now that she did she felt awkward. 

”Well... not technically. A third-year-student only.”

”A young-in huh? How old are you then?” Pete inquired. 

”24 I think. Kinda lost count already”, Gillian admitted light-heartedly. ”Yeah... 24. So what did you do before the outbreak?”

Pete looked at Nick compactly. 

"I hunted. It kept us fed, Nick and his mom. She was my sister. He never seemed to be too keen on the job, though", Pete's words were almost accusative. Gillian nodded in respect.

”We were uh... entrepreneurs”, Luke answered the question awkwardly. His eyes darted to Nick’s. Gillian wanted to smile but restrained herself.

”Well. That’s sure something. My papa was the same.”

They conversed about tv, electricity - things that had once been self-evident, now gone. The mood was light and even Nick, first so cased in his shyness, stepped out of his comfort zone and got into an argument about sports with Gillian. It was so refreshing, she thought. Having this many people around you. Normal people. The conversation was quickly toning down, and Gillian had begun to think about her ultimate fate - whether or not she would stay. She wanted to - but not without finishing something first. Something that had gnawed at the back of her mind all day. Deciding that it would not hurt to ask, Gillian straightened her back and took a heavy breath, one that silenced the men around her.

"Listen, uh... Could we please go back to my camp. I need to see if- Hunter, what happened to him. I don't know how I can live with myself if he is one of those things." 

Luke looked uneasy, but Pete nodded the instant. The old man had taken a liking for this girl who stood her ground so bravely and defended herself if needed. Besides, he had noticed how keenly his nephew eyed out the girl every time their looks departed. The boy sure needed someone in his life to look after him, especially when he would be gone. That could happen at anytime soon, he reminded himself as his eyes locked at his beloved nephew. He would trust Nick in Gillian's hands if she allowed him to. 

"Of course. There's no lurker activity near, so we should be good to go."

"Thank you. You have no idea what that means for me", Gillian whispered and suddenly, she felt so vulnerable there. 

”We’ll leave tomorrow morning, all right? It’s getting late anyway. Better to catch some sleep.”

Pete got up on his spot, heading outdoors to take the turn for guarding. Gillian moved away from Luke’s embrace. Only now she noticed that he had coaxed himself so close to her that their sides were almost touching. He looked a little awkward, being caught like that. 

”Sleep sure sounds nice?”

”Yeah. Let’s go.”


	8. Him

They had almost shot Gillian at first, but she had never felt safer around anyone else. 

Even though they had it tough most of the time, like now, a few months into the outbreak. 

”We’re low on rations again”, Gillian had heard Lilly speaking to her father in the morning. ”I have no idea what to do, dad.”

It had been somewhat two months since the group had set up at the Travelier motel, Gillian alongside them. They had reinforced this new home to their best extent - built walls around the perimeter and cleaned up all the muck and grime - the place was livable at best, although located in a spot with poor visibility. Gillian still stayed in her old room number 3 at the upstairs apartment. She was a little scared to sleep anywhere else, or with anyone else, although Mark had jokingly suggested so. The ground level apartments were directly on the paths of walkers that still occasionally wandered too close to them. Last night, they had come through a fence that was now being replaced urgently by the others.

Her eyes drifted to the rest of the group who were occupied by this chore. The kids, Clementine and Duck, were kicking around a worn football and trying their best not to interrupt Kenny, who was fixing a dead RV that had been parked at the lot of the motel even when Gillian had arrived, prior to the outbreak. Lilly was guarding the perimeter from the RV’s rooftop, and the others were reinforcing the wall. Gillian saw even Ben helping the best he could, handing tools and whatnots for the other men.  
Gillian was on guard duty too, surveying the left side of the forest whereas Lilly kept an eye on the right. She leaned against the railing and fixed the hunting rifle on her shoulder, trying to focus on her mission. It was incredibly hard in the autumn heat, especially at the famished state everyone suffered of. The noise of the football hitting against a metallic bin, the hammering of nails, even the sound of the wind diverted Gillian's attention completely. 

Standing at the balcony made Gillian reminisce the way she had found this group. Although they were already eleven people strong, the original trio who had found Gillian had already disbanded. Glenn who had been the one to find Gillian’s neighbor in room number 4 had taken off to search his friends in Atlanta - no one knew what had happened to him. Larry had suspected he was dead, much to everyone’s disliking. The old man really had no filter in regards to anything that slipped past his mouth.   
Carley, the gunwoman who was responsible for almost killing Gillian had died the same night when they had met, while the rest of her group had escaped from a drugstore in Macon city. Only Lee was left. He had been the one to ask Gillian if she wanted to join them. The girl did not know if she liked the man or not, and most of the time he kept to himself anyway, only talking to his protege little Clementine. Gillian really liked Clementine, she was a different kind of child. Perhaps a little precocious at times, but it was only good when the dead walked around and anyone could turn on you. Sometimes Gillian feared that her own group would do the same. There were a lot of tensions between the people. Especially Kenny and Lilly butted heads a lot, Larry accompanying the fight with his defiant bullshit at any given moment to defend his daughter. Gillian generally had no idea what had happened before the group had arrived at the Travelier motel since a new, more pressing matter was dividing the group in half: lack of rations. Somehow, Lilly had fought her way to the top of the food chain - rather literally, too. She was in the position of disputing the food to others.

Gillian liked Lilly but feared her too, for the precise reason of turning against the group. At least she had her reasons to suspect this. They were probably the closest in age which allowed them to share some sort of wordlessly bound sisterhood. Neither of them had children, and both of them were frequently dreading for the group - and because of it. Gillian liked to help her in rationing and scouting sometimes when Lilly’s father allowed her to venture outside the fences. She might have been perfectly capable of taking care of herself but listened to his old man most of the time. 

Besides, the supply runs were getting more dangerous and less fruitful every passing day. Larry's worry was justified. Usually, Lee and Kenny took the responsibility to go for an outing but the last time they had taken Gillian with them. Whereas _they_ had been in no inherent danger and succeeded in finding the much needed medical supplies, Gillian still shuddered at the expense they had had their success upon. She could still hear the cries of the woman they had used as a bait to draw walkers into her way instead of theirs. It had been an eye-opening experience for her. Lilly might have had the potential to turn against the others, but at the moment Gillian thought that she was their biggest threat. She wished that she could talk about it with her - although they were some sort of friends, their conversations were usually overshadowed by worry and exhaustion. 

Lilly might have liked Gillian, but her father was different. It was a shame that Larry generally disliked her and discarded her as a burden and nothing else. She had never dared to question him but suspected that her age and abilities played their part in the dislike. Gillian could run, all right. Just maybe not as fast as the others. She tried to patch it up by volunteering in guard duty as nothing usually slipped past her sharp attention. The last supply run had been a plot against her, a test of some sorts, she suspected often on. They had probably wanted to see if she could make it - and if not, they would have one less mouth to feed. Come to think of it now, maybe it was good that they had happened across the poor woman in the town.

"Everybody, stop!"

It was Mark who had alerted the others, but Gillian's train of thought had already been interrupted by the strange sound. At first, Gillian thought that Kenny had finally succeeded in fixing the RV, but the sound of motor echoed from somewhere in the far distance. It was such a peculiar sound in a world that was now silent from the hums of electricity and roars of motors. The girl crouched lower down on the deck and propped the rifle on her shoulder, spying the unraveling scene through the gun's scope. 

It was a white Macon county sheriff's vehicle that now approached the motel, speeding past dead walkers and cars barely avoiding them. _It'll crash_ , Gillian hazily thought and whistled at others to take cover. Like a freshly stirred ant hill, the yard of the motel started to buzz silently. The kids and Katjaa ran to an apartment furthest away from the road, while the others searched for guns or anything that could aid them in a possible conflict. Oblivious to the motel and its armed inhabitants, the driver of the vehicle kept speeding - all it took was a too steep turn until it finally tipped over and crashed, rolling on the ground for three times before halting on its roof. The scene was scattered with broken glass and the steadily rising smoke from the hood of the car. It could explode soon.

"Should we take a look?"

"No, let's wait for a bit."

Gillian did not partake in this conversation because she was still glued to the scope, perplexed by the scene. She could see movement inside the car but did not know if the driver was dead or not. Why would they have sped like that if they had not been in an inherent danger? Was this some grander scheme, a plan to divert their attention while the rest of the speeder's group attacked from behind? All these thoughts escaped her rational mind when she saw someone waving their arms inside the car.

"He's alive!"

The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them, and her feet carried her faster than ever before. She actually was not sure if it even was a he in the car, it did not matter. Perhaps it was some sort of instinct, perhaps a way to prove the others that she was useful, but something unknown to her aided her desperate flee towards the car. 

"Cover for me" she yelled at Lilly who was still perched on top of the RV, clearly as surprised by the accident as everyone else. She nodded and raised the rifle for a better access to the car, which was still casually smoking. All the commotion had stirred the others in action as well, and now the girl was accompanied by Lee who had a shotgun propped at his shoulder. The two looked at each other in confirmation - Gillian would go first, and Lee would have her back. Ever since the outing, she had trusted him more, even after what they had done with the woman. The others were peeking over the fence in different states of confusion and curiosity. 

"You okay?" Gillian started talking quietly, creeping closer to the dead car. The window was cracked and obstructed her view inside the cab. Someone or _something_ stirred inside it and she could hear broken glass tinker as it fell on the ground. A pained, deep groan sounded from inside.

"Are you bit?"

She had intended the question to be harsh but only managed to sound like a scared little girl. At first, everything was quiet and both Gillian and Lee started to prepare for a walker before a deep, hearty chuckle stopped them in their tracks.

"No", a deep male voice answered. There was something condescending in the way the stranger spoke, which sparked annoyance in Gillian. She decided to try and swallow it down. 

"Cover your head", she warned him before hitting the already cracked window of the car, which easily caved in, shattering on the ground and on the stranger's face. He opened his seatbelt and slumped down accompanied by a pained grunt when the shards bit into his skin. _Oops._

"Glenn?" she heard Clementine's small voice ask from distance. How typical for her to disobey orders and slip past the adults' watching eye, Gillian thought amusedly. She could hear Lee walking away from the scene to usher the little girl back to safety, and promptly propped the gun back to its defensive position. She could handle this alone.

The man in the car was not Glenn, just someone who looked a little like him. He might have been in his mid-thirties, Gillian guessed and allowed him some room to crawl out from the car, gun pointed at the stranger's neck. He was a lot taller than her and very tan from what she could see - he was still clad in his sheriff's uniform. His long hair was on a ponytail and Gillian guessed that he shared some Native American roots alongside Asian, perhaps Chinese ones. His eyes swept around the scene, registering the others, perhaps deciding that it was no use to start making a scene. Instead, he fell on his knees and brought his hands to the back of his head, a smile lingering on his lips. He was looking at Gillian now, targeting his undivided attention to the girl. There was a sense of mockery in his actions - if he had really wanted, he could have overwhelmed Gillian easily. Kenny and Mark joined next to Gillian, and even Lilly had finally climbed down the RV and was now standing among the others in the safety of the fence. Everybody's eyes were on him, but he did not seem to mind. He kept staring at Gillian, intently. 

"Who are you?" 

He simply looked down to his uniform-clad chest where his name was embroidered. Gillian's stare followed, read the name in her thoughts. _Hunter Suen._

She looked at him like he was an alien, oblivious for the future that the two would hold together. His equally clueless eyes kept staring back.

"Well... Welcome, I guess?"


	9. Gone

The following morning was decent. Gillian was still feeling light-hearted from the casual conversation she had had with Nick, Luke, and Pete. But the more the morning progressed, the closer they were to leave for the search of Hunter, the more anxious she grew. Luke noticed her uneasiness perhaps because he shared the sentiment.

"Gillian? Come outside, I want to talk to you."

She followed him sheepishly, avoiding the curious stares of Rebecca. Something in her knew that they had told her everything - or perhaps she had taken a turn in eavesdropping their conversation last night. Seemed as if the snarky woman had decided to tone her attitude down a little.

"Are you sure you want to do this?", Luke wasted no time in throwing himself to the wolves. She shook her head to clear her thoughts out.  
"I have to do it. I made a promise."

They had a hard time finding the trampled camp because Hunter had been thorough in covering their tracks. For the whole journey, Gillian had furiously thought of the possible outcomes leaving the tracking for the men, who had no idea where to go in the first place. It was part of her plot anyway, she did not know if she could take it. Would Hunter be dead? Would he be one of... them? She did not know what to expect, but nothing could prepare her for the sight of the camp once they stumbled upon it.

What was left of the scene was empty shells, trampled supplies and blood, so much blood. The bodies of Hunter and Ralph were nowhere to be seen. Smoke rose from the ashes of the campfire in such a leisurely pace that it disgusted Gillian. Just a few days ago it had burned so bright, so full of life, ready to spread through a small spark. A spark that had been dampened, killed before it had had a chance. Unfairness seemed to be the theme for everyone nowadays.

Overwhelmed by everything she collapsed on the ground, dry heaving, sobbing, eyes burning. She remotely heard Luke's warm voice behind her, felt a hand on her shoulder, but could not calm down. She felt hopeless, so lonely and so so sad that nothing, even Luke's gentle hushes could not calm her down.

A glimpse of something green captured her attention. 

No.

Gillian crawled on the harsh ground, groping the gravel in her hands. Violently torn pieces of Hunter's green army fatigues were almost unrecognizable because of all of the blood. Mark had given these clothes to him, he had been part of the military and happy to have been accompanied by a state representative. Poor Mark, poor dead Mark, Gillian cried. The image of him, legless, flashed across her eyes and she thought of Hunter. Where were his shoes, she remembered thinking in her panicky state. He had always been so proud of them because good shoes were always the most important piece of gear for a lot of walking - and all they had done for the past months was moving from one place to another. _Had he not joked that these shoes were made for walkers?_ Stupid fucking jokes that now turned out to be true.

"Gillian, it's okay", Luke assured her gently. The three men had stood away in a respectful distance, but Luke could not handle her grief anymore. Their gazed dropped on the ground before her, where lay the remaining chunks of her lover. 

"Okay?" she spoke calmly, but there was an underlying danger behind those bittersweet letters that she blurted between her white lips. She was still kneeling on the ground, looking positively lunatic. "How the fuck do you-"

"Look out!"

Gillian snapped her head around in a flash, already knowing what would wait for her.

There he stood, at the edge of the forest. His back was turned at them, but all of them could tell that he was very much dead without seeing his empty, glossy eyes - there was a huge chunk missing from his right side, and his feet barely held the weight of his torso - they had been gnawed off almost to the bone. The pinkish white flashed behind the torn fabric of his pants as the putrid corpse swayed grotesquely. 

"No!"

Her desperate cry alerted the walker's attention. It turned around very slowly, groaning gutturally in the process. Blood was dripping from its guts that were hanging down its stomach, almost grazing the ground, picking dry needles and sand in them. The dark strands of his hair that he had kept on careful braid were scattered everywhere, concealing his face and swaying around as it walked towards the living with dragging feet. Hunter had told Gillian that keeping his hair long and tied up neatly, was symbolic for his people. She thought that seeing him like this was just as symbolic. It meant that he was gone, forever.

"Hunter?" she called his name weakly. The walker swayed a little, then began walking towards the girl steadily. Its head, which was rolled to the side in an inhumane angle, revealed a gunshot wound for the others. Gillian was trembling now. 

"I am so sorry I couldn't help you."

Hunter had been a tall, muscular man and even death could not undress him of his impressive frame. That was why the three men were uneasy before this sight: the girl had no weapon drawn, and the huge walker was closing in. Confused at her tactic, they drew their weapons ready. Just in case, Luke's eyes signaled Pete's, who had his crossbow perched upon his shoulder. No one knew what to do. 

"I am so sorry."

The walker was now so close to her that she could smell it. Rot, blood, and somewhere under all that she could sense the earthy smell of Hunter’s that she knew and loved so much. She could not do it. 

"Why'd you have to die?" she screamed at him and was about to step forward when an arrow pierced the walker's right eye with a disgusting _thud_. 

"No!" her scream was guttural as the corpse collapsed on the ground, unmoving, finally dead as a stone. Gillian swayed a little before collapsing on her knees. A long, hysterical sob escaped past her lips. 

"Gillian... It's over."

Luke came from behind, wrapping her into a warm bear hug, holding her tightly so that she could hardly breathe, but it was weirdly calming and kept her from losing it completely. Like a damn straitjacket. He allowed her to weep for as long as she needed while the other men walked around the camp looking for useful supplies. Gillian allowed that.

"He was a fucking asshole", she whimpered in protest.

"Hush now... I'm sure he was a great guy."

"No" Gillian protested and leaned her head against Luke's shoulder. "He had all these rules. He hated me."

"Let's go now. We're vulnerable here."

"He didn't love me. He just wanted some fresh..."

Luke hushed her with a string of hey’s that shut her up for the rest of the walk back to the cabin. She insisted on walking alone, leading the group with determined steps somehow knowing where they needed to go. She was ghostly pale and Luke feared that she would collapse any moment now. Hastily, Gillian shared the thought. She was weaker than ever before. 

”Well”, her voice remained strong. ”I don’t think I need to explain myself further. I’m in.”

Pete nodded and Luke answered with his signature smile. Nick’s face she could not see, as the shadow of his baseball cap covered any expression - or lack thereof, efficiently. She wanted to believe that he was okay with it and continued her journey towards the cabin, or at least the general direction of it. Her steps were growing sluggish, she almost tripped in her shoes, and finally, Luke could not stay shut about it. 

”Hey, take it easy!” 

”I am... fine...” Gillian insisted before the world around her faded to black and she tripped, passed out. 

”God damn it”, Pete cursed as the girl collapsed on the ground. ”Let’s get her back.”

”That was pretty gruesome” Luke murmured as he picked the girl up like once before. ”Can’t say I’m jealous of her.”

"It was hard on her. But it's done now", Pete was grim but remained rational as they began carrying her towards the cabin that already peeked from between the bruce trees. They discarded Nick’s feelings, Nick’s, who at the moment felt for Gillian the most, following them quietly. He could not get the sight of the walker out of his head. It had reminded him too much of his mother.

-

They allowed her to sleep upstairs despite Rebecca’s dubious thoughts that Gillian might turn. She might have had a change of heart towards her, personally, but she still worried for her unborn child. 

”She’s fine, for god’s sakes”, Luke was growing frustrated. ”She just saw her... partner dead.” 

He did not want to use the word boyfriend. Had she not told him that the guy had never even loved her? He had other reasons too, but would never admit them to anyone, not even the girl. Well, maybe not yet. 

It was not surprising that the girl slept throughout the day, because of her already so weakened state. Night landed over the forest. Gillian was awoken by the surrounding darkness and her tears, that had wetted her hair and pillow. At first, the girl thought that she had gone blind. She could still hear Hunter’s screams echoing in her head, loud and clear, but saw nothing as she raised her palm before her eyes. She had no idea where she was - sluggishly the thought occurred to her, that she had fainted somewhere on the way back to the cabin. At least she suspected that was where she now laid, upstairs on her familiar sofa. She had to take a moment to get used to the darkness and before long she could make out the familiar outlines of her frail hands and the upstairs room. 

Afraid that she had awoken Luke and Nick with her childish whimpering, she turned around. They were both sleeping soundly, Luke on his stomach legs sprawled across the bed, Nick on his side, back facing Luke’s. She could see their sides rising and falling as their comfortable breathing calmed her senses down. It was okay. She was okay. She could sleep in peace now. 

Or could she? She was afraid of closing her eyes because she knew that Hunter was waiting for her in the darkness. He was waiting, torn to pieces, a bloody mess with a slashed neck and gray, glazed eyes. _That’s right,_ she thought. He would be there for her in her nightmares as soon as she drifted asleep. 

Yet, Gillian’s stare was fixed at the small gap between the two men. A small gap, just fit for her, she thought, guarding her against the bad in the world. From Hunter. The girl forced herself on her weak feet and walked to Luke’s side, softly kneeling next to him. She examined his sleepy face. His scruff stubble. Those eyebrows that were tension, stress-free. Suddenly she wanted to kiss him very badly. Ashamed of these thoughts she almost left back to her own sofa, but he had been awake anyway, just... resting his eyes.

”What is it?” 

After all, the end of the world had conditioned even the heaviest sleepers to wake from the smallest of cues. That was why it took just a soft breeze to wake Luke up. He looked confused at first, not recognizing who it was that stood so close to him. _Oh shit,_ he remembered in a flash. He had been supposed to stay up and look out for Gillian. He scrambled to sit up on the bed.

”Nothing’s wrong... I just... I can’t sleep.”

She blurted, to continue before he could speak any further, ashamed of his sudden reaction.

”I was just... thinking", she echoed and looked at him straight in the eye, at least what she thought were his eyes- the room was comfortably dark. His voice was husky from sleeping, and perhaps he had not yet fully awoken, because what he finally said was an answer that Gillian had not really anticipated. 

”Sit down.”

Without further questions Gillian reached over him, crawling to the space in the middle. Immediate warmth welcomed her, maybe the smell of sweat, too, but it did not bother her. She loved it in all of its humanity. 

”Are you okay?” he whispered to her. "I mean... that was some rough shit out there. I'm sorry."

"What about Nick?"

"He's a heavy sleeper", Luke said gently, reassuringly. He was not. He was also wide awake, listening to their conversation intently, but too shy to let them know. 

”I think I am", Gillian, referring to his question, spoke quietly. Luke turned around to face her, although they could not see each other in the darkness. She could feel his warm breath on her face. 

”I’m sorry. For what happened out there.”

”Don’t be. I’m glad it’s over.”

He did not know what to say. He was curious to know more about the two, the extent of their relationship, but afraid that it would offend the girl he decided to go the straightforward way. 

"It's good that... you're in, you know."

Gillian smiled, although surprise and anxiety raked her brain upon hearing these gentle words. Everything was happening way too fast, she was sharing a bed with this strange man, while his best friend slept behind their backs unbeknownst to them, fully aware of how quickly it all was escalating.  
"I'm glad you took me."

Her tone gave him no room to venture further. She laid down not really minding the surprised tension emitting from both of the men. If they were being so friendly, what was wrong about sleeping in the same bed, she thought bemusedly. She had always liked to be a tease.

”Good night”, she whispered to Luke, turning her back to him and his confused, blushed face that the darkness so well concealed. She felt the bed creak as he laid down too, careful not to touch the girl. Not long after the silence had fallen, all of them began dozing off. It was somewhat comfortable, the three of them sleeping like that, providing warmth and something humane neither of them had felt in a long time. And that night Hunter left Gillian alone and never came back.


	10. Ambush

It was rather official now, a wordless agreement that bound everyone - Gillian was part of the ragged refugees. Pete had chatted with Rebecca and Alvin during their guard shifts and all of them had agreed that it was finally time to give the newcomer a proper chance to become one of them. They simply had no heart to abandon her. Eventually, it would mean that they needed to let her in on the secret that was Carver. But for now, they decided to focus on the good in life - as that good could be taken from them at any moment. Pete brought his idea up at the breakfast table when Sarah and Carlos had left. He did not want the young girl to get too excited and perhaps demand to join them as well. Carlos would not like that.

"Gillian, has anyone ever taught you how to fish?"

The girl was sitting at the opposite end of the table, between Alvin and Luke. She could not help the confused laugh. The question had been so out of nowhere that it had caught her off guard. Although, it did not take much to fluster her today - Gillian was feeling all giddy and weird, like a damned teenager because of last night. Being able to feel like that, despite the lurking dangers in the outdoors, despite the loss of _him_ (Gillian had decided to stop referring to him by his name), it felt like the first time in forever, she thought, wondering how Nick and Luke felt about her sleeping with them. Just as she was about to lean to the brown-eyed male's ear to tease him, she realized it would sound plenty weird to the others who were also seated in the table. 

"Sorry", she apologized immediately, fixing her hair instead. "That was just... Unexpected. No, nobody has."

"I figured, if ya don't mind me sayin", Pete forgave her easily. Of course, she did mind but hesitated to show her agitation. Fearing that it would turn into Larry's type of belittling, she looked at the old man compactly, urging him to finish this obvious suggestion.

"We're goin' fishing with Nick, check a few traps we have set down at the river. A couple fresh brookies for dinner? Wouldn't that be nice. You're welcomed to join."

Knowing that it was not really an invitation more than it was an order, Gillian nodded. It was time to show usefulness among the cabin group, too. Besides, how hard would it be to catch a few fish? 

"Sure. Just say the word."

-

The rising morning sun colored the forest in amber, tickling Gillian’s face gently. Everything around the three, for once, was benevolent and calm, welcoming. Some late songbirds were still singing their chipper tunes before they would migrate somewhere warmer. The peace of the forest went uninterrupted by the two men who moved in the undergrowth silently - it seemed as if they were part of their surroundings, blending into the vegetation thanks to their camo clothing. Gillian could only admire them for their respect to nature - there was something mystic in the way they advanced. Nick alerted their attention by discoursing from the small path they were walking, looking at Pete’s direction. 

“I’ll, uh… Nature’s calling”, he seemed to hesitate his language around Gillian who pretended not to have heard him. Pete swung his hand to him in a dismissive manner.

“Take your time, son”, he moved his eyes to Gillian. “Let’s go. He’ll find the river himself.”

Gillian agreed. He probably did not want anyone lingering around while… _Nature was calling._ They resumed walking towards the river, content in the silence that surrounded them. 

“How ya holding up? Everybody treatin’ you right?”

”Yes.” 

She guessed that after spending so much time with _him_ , the cabin group was the best she could have wished for. There still was Rebecca, though. She decided to bring it up, maybe get a little bit of closure for her dismissive attitude. She was sure that once the woman was won over, her husband would follow. 

“What’s up with Rebecca, though?”

“Her bark’s worse than the bite”, Pete chuckled and his words were not malicious. “She just has a lot on her mind now. Bringing a child into a world like this? It’s tough. Even to someone like her.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t imagine being in her place”, Gillian admitted. Her thoughts were momentarily turned to a certain talk she had had with _him_ once about the importance of keeping your contraceptives in check. They had never slept without protection for the precise reason of accidental conceiving, although after the end of the world Gillian had been in a constant state of malnourishment which had led to no periods for over a year. It was unlikely that she could conceive - but _he_ had not allowed any exceptions. Fuck, the more she thought about the times back with him, the more anger she felt. What a fucking know-it-all control freak he had been.  
They passed an empty riverbed and Gillian thought of Nick. Just as she was about to ask, Pete shook the hunting rifle on his arms as if sensing that she was about to bring his nephew into the conversation. 

“Anyone ever taught you how to shoot this? And by that I mean taught proper.”

“No. Figured it out myself”, she said, thinking back to the time when she had first gotten a similar, heavy gun on her arms and almost knocked herself out because of the surprisingly strong recoil she had not prepared to respect. Learning the hard way was still learning, she laughed at the memory of her bruised shoulder and Mark who had found the incident plenty hilarious. 

“That’s good, it’s important nowadays”, he said gently. “You see, any idiot with a finger can shoot, but there’re nuances to it. Take Nick for instance.”

Gillian smiled a little, looking back to where she thought they had left him behind. No sign of him. Surely he knew his way to the river? Pete seemed to have a way of both under- and overestimating his nephew.

“He was about fifteen when I first took him huntin’”, Pete said affectionately. “Came across this beautiful 13 point buck just standin’ there on the ridgeline.”

He aimed the gun somewhere, demonstrating the moment that had happened a decade ago. 

“The boy takes the rifle… lines up the shot just like I taught him... Then I hear him start whinin’. He turns to me and says ’I can’t do it. I can’t shoot it, uncle Pete. Please, don’t make me shoot it.’”

And that right there made Gillian forgive everything Nick had ever done shitty against her, the time he had almost killed her, his attitude towards her, everything. How a person took on hunting - it told a lot about them. He might have been young back then, but somehow she knew that deep inside, he was still the same. He was not malicious in nature, just more prone to fucking everything up. At the end of the world, who would not be? She smiled apologetically and was about to open her mouth before a familiar voice interrupted.

“Hey”, it was Nick. “Why didn’t you wait?”

The previous graciousness of his movements was gone as he rummaged through the underbrush, running comically towards them, almost tripping in the dried up riverbed. Gillian stopped almost automatically to wait for him, yet his uncle kept on going. 

“You want us standin’ around while you piss on a tree?” he murmured. “You know where the river is, boy.”

Nick looked displeased by this but remained quiet. Perhaps if Gillian had not been around he would have objected, but the girl’s presence forced him to reconsider his explosive attitude. Something told her that both of the men were acting more peachy than normal. Why bother? After all, she had had the first-hand experience of their tumulous relationship. 

“Anyway”, Pete continued his story, gesturing Gillian to follow him. “So I go to grab the gun out his hand before this big buck runs off when BANG!” he yelled, pretending to fire the gun.

“The gun fires. Boy nearly gut shot me. And of course, the buck gets away.”

“What are you going around telling her this shit for?” Nick was pissed, and for a reason too. It was as if Pete was intentionally trying to get a reaction out of him, Gillian thought, looking at the camo-dressed older man whose face still remained still as a stone. He sneered.

“Cause you almost blew her face off a few days ago. Seems relevant. Tryin’ to let her know it’s nothing personal with you.”

She hid her invasive smile by turning her head away from the others. This kind of banter was something she had truly missed, although it bothered her that it happened on Nick’s, delicate Nick’s expense. Luke might have had some sportsmanship for this kind of ragging, but his friend seemed to be carved from a different tree. 

“Why are you always giving me a hard time?” his voice sounded a little defeated as the gun in his hand lowered along his gaze. Pete stopped to stand before him, stern, humorless. Gillian mirrored his seriousness. 

“Because you’re always giving everyone else a hard time.”

 _Ouch,_ she cringed upon hearing these words. Maybe in the middle of the woods was not the best time to go through family business, especially in front of her, a damned stranger. What if there were walkers nearby - or worse, other living people? They could hear the commotion and ambush them. She lost all color on her face even thinking about the fight that had separated her from _him_. They had no idea with what kind of forces they were playing with.

“I apologized to her already. She accepted. It’s done and over now.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. He did”, Gillian smiled and walked closer to Nick, hoping to calm the argument with her benevolent presence. He was too heated to notice this obvious attempt to calm him down. Perhaps if he had been in his right mind he would have gotten embarrassed for her obvious attempt to get closer to him.

“You always try to embarrass me”, he deadpanned to his uncle. Pete was not having any of it.

“You’re doing a good enough job of that on your own”, he rumbled, raising his voice ever so slightest. It seemed to be enough for Nick who pushed everyone aside, marching towards the river. 

“Leavin’ us again?”

“I know where the fucking river is.”

Gillian could only look after him as he pushed his way through the forest. Melancholy was all she could feel. Pete had no business to lecture him like that, although she appreciated his concern. Nick had shown her that he could be trusted. There was no need to drag him through the mud in front of Gillian.

“Sometimes you gotta play a role. Even if it means people you love hate you for it.”

“He doesn’t hate you”, she reassured and they started following his steps. “I think right now he’s just... embarrassed.”

“You see, Nick’s father wasn’t there much, and he was a piece of shit when he was. So it fell to me to keep him in line. To raise him right. Meant I couldn’t just be nice Uncle Pete.”

She should keep that in mind. Their pace remained leisurely before the air was pierced by Nick’s uncertain, horrified call from in front of them.

“Uncle Pete!”

They picked up a light run, fearing for the worst. Walkers? _Carver?_ Worry was etched on Pete’s face as he led Gillian to the opening of the river.

”Woah… what the fuck?”

Corpses. So many corpses. They were scattered everywhere on the otherwise empty riverbed. Among the dead laid a few walkers but most of the bodies were fresh, which had alerted Nick’s attention immediately. They had been killed while they were alive, and it meant nothing good. 

”Were they bitten?” he asked, uncertain how to approach the massacre. Gillian shook her head immediately - one of the corpses near their feet had a gaping hole where the person’s left eye had once been. There seemed to be no bites visible. 

”I think they were all shot.”

”Yeah”, Pete, who was kneeling down next to one, confirmed. ”Fulla holes.”

”Who do you think did this?” Gillian just had to play the devil’s advocate. She was hugging her arms. Suddenly the world was much colder once again. The forest around them was no longer gentle - now it hid horrible secrets within. Silent killers, and this time around, not walkers. She cursed herself for letting her defenses soften like that.

”Not sure yet”, Pete sighed gravelly as his steady stare swept across the scene. ”But it ain’t your average gang’a thugs, that much I know.”

From what Gillian had heard about the dictatorial leader back at the unnamed hardware store, she was not surprised that he was not an average thug - if it had been Carver, who had murdered all of these people. Nick had found his way towards the treeline. 

”Think about it”, his equally serious voice rang to the trees as he spoke. ”You’re Carver. What do you do?”

There, the name again. Seemed as if the two knew exactly whose signature work such massacres were. Gillian froze on her tracks as she looked at the corpse by her feet, thinking about this faceless threat, this _Carver_ , this absolutely crazy-sounding nobody that could lurk in the trees just across the stream. She had no idea what he looked like. It scared her even more than knowing. 

”Check those guys there. Some of ’em might still be moving”, Pete gave her directions and she complied, tearing her mind away from the worst case scenarios. ”And look for ammo. We’re running low.”

She knelt next to a woman who had also been shot through the head. For some unknown reasons, Gillian took her time to search for any recognizable features that could still be found. Had she ever met this lady before? Could it be Lilly? Probably not. However, she did look like she was from the North. She deduced this from the outfit that she was wearing. It was way more fit for the falling temperatures. Without thinking much, Gillian began to undress her jacket. At least the corpses were not that fresh. The girl could see that rigor mortis had set a long time ago and the corpses were back to their soft, pre-death flexibility.

”What are you doin’?”

”I’m... Sorry. But she doesn’t need it anymore”, the girl answered to Pete who looked at her actions with judging eyes. Careful not to get any blood on the jacket Gillian coaxed it off from the corpse. It was a perfect fit, a little thicker kind of leather jacket with a few pins and charms punched through the collar. It was not only warmer but also much less attention-grabbing than the green monstrosity she was glad to discard on the corpse, covering it as an act of gratitude and modesty. She spotted a belt on the woman’s hips and quickly slipped it around hers. It was a little too big for her and she decided to punch holes in it later. The baggy pants hanging on her hips were suddenly much nicer to wear with the leather resting on her hip bones. 

She raised her head to see Pete's and Nick's turn away quickly - embarrassed for being caught staring. It was obvious that they had not grown up to be scavengers, even though it was one of the most vital skills _especially_ in this kind of circumstances. Gillian had always been taught by _him_ , to take what you needed when the situation arose. This massacre was a perfect example.

”They have nothing else”, Nick sighed. 

”This one-” Gillian began but stopped dead in her tracks. Her throat budded shut, she could let no noise past her lips even if she tried to scream - she very much wanted to. She could not even breathe. 

There, right next to Nick, she had spotted familiar boots. They were a little bloody but she could immediately recognize them, hell, how could she forget - they had almost gotten themselves killed for them, because _he_ had wanted a fucking pair of expensive trekking boots. She could not see who was wearing them but knew it was not _him_. 

”No”, the whisper alerted Pete’s attention. He had moved all the way to the other side of the river to inspect the equally dead, equally holey corpses. 

”What’s the problem?”

”He was… he was one of them…”

There, in the grass laid one of the bandits who had attacked their camp a few nights ago - his face still fresh in Gillian’s mind. He was the quiet one, the silent inspector who had not condoned his friends' actions yet made no effort to stop them from raping, for degrading Gillian and her companion. Had his name been Victor? That made no difference. He had fucking stolen _his boots._

Gillian was just about to lunge at the dead guy to stab his pathetic, withered corpse with anything she could find near, but out of nowhere, the forest around them exploded. 

”Watch out”, Nick barked at the girl and pulled her next to him when a rotting corpse stumbled from between the trees to the clearing right in front of them. He shot it immediately, but more poured after the first one and soon they were cornered. Gillian had no weapon so the only thing she could do was to hide next to Nick, hoping, that he could save her if anything went wrong - well, even more than it already had. How had they not noticed the walkers sooner? She could not blame herself, she had been occupied by the sight of a ghost - but what about the two? 

”Shoot ’em, and let’s go!” Pete rumbled from the other side of the river just as another herd of walkers ambushed him too. They had been drawn by the noise of the commotion, waddling closer slowly yet deadly surely. 

”Pete, they’re behind you”, Gillian warned him lowly. The walkers were coming from everywhere, silently, snapping only branches and rustling leaves as they advanced. She could tell that some of them had been the victims of this riverside massacre, judging from the state of their beginning decomposition. 

”Get your asses over here”, the old man commanded them - but they were at an impasse. Nick had no ammo left and the walkers were closing in. They had to back down all the way to the deep end of the riverbed where the current would surely draw them along it if they jumped in. The water would be cold enough for them to freeze numb and drown. 

”I’m out”, the uncle and the nephew said, almost in unison.

”We have to run”, Gillian whispered in Nick’s ear. For the first time in forever - or, in days, as the grim reminder still laid in the grass in front of her - she was fearing for her life. She did not know how to act - so maybe instead of searching for a weapon from the surroundings, she latched herself to Nick’s arm. ”They’ll overrun us!”

His eyes were fixed to his uncle. 

”It’s okay, son”, the older man assured. ”Just run.”

All Pete could do was to melee down the ones that got too close, until finally he could not stand his ground. Just as Gillian thought that he would be overpowered, he slipped past the dead and broke down in a run. 

”I’ll find ya’ll later! Don’t die on me”, he yelled at the two from the distance. It was easier said than done. The herd on Pete’s side of the river had broken into two. Some went after him, but most tried to cross the stream to sunk their teeth to Gillian and Nick. Soon they would be surrounded from every possible direction. Her companion seemed not to care. He was frozen, eyes locked in the forest where his uncle had just ran. 

”Nick”, she shook his arm to wake him from some panicked coma. ”We have to-”

Gillian might have hated _him_ for being an asshole, but at least he had taken care of her in situations like these. Nick - he was different. A rude awakening sprung him on his feet, and he pushed the girl aside sprinting into the desperate flee, disregarding his surroundings. Gillian fell on her ass and only barely scooped away from a corpse that lunged to bite her. She could feel the wound of her thigh explode in pain as the sutures nearly gave in from the impact. 

”Nick!”

Sheer shock and adrenaline jolted her into a sprint despite the rapidly spreading pain. _He fucking pushed me_ , almost to the hands of the walkers. He only turned to look back after reaching the treeline, even then not bothering to stop and wait for the girl. The Gillian who had lived at the Travelier motel would have easily lost the race with Nick - but now, it took no time for her to reach him, even with a mauled leg.

”Fucking fuck! Shit! What the fuck was that!?”

Gillian was fuming. They ran, aimlessly, dodging walkers and branches, jumping over roots and rocks. Their hitched breaths were the only sound in the dense air, broken by occasional crack of wood, a swish of leaves, heavy stomp of a boot. Nick was faster than her, leading their way to somewhere, they had no idea where. Finally, they could slow down enough to catch their breaths. Nick turned to Gillian in an out-of-breath yet determinant frenzy.

”We have to get back to Pete!”

”You have no ammo and I have no weapon”, Gillian answered with a labored tone, not bothering to even lay her eyes to Nick. She was focused on looking out for something, anything to aid their desperate mission. Later on, she would question both of them for their state of mind at that moment: why had they not acted logically? Why were they running aimlessly, not towards the cabin but to a whole different direction? Well, to hell with it. She would also remember the sheer panic that the sudden attack had caused. It was a good enough excuse for their stumbles. 

”There!”

They spotted a roof peeking between the branches of the pine trees. It was a small shack - partially submerged to the ground and thus, hard to spot. There was a bunch of walkers around it who just stood there idly doing nothing. 

”I need something, anything- there!”

There were a few shattered tree branches at the base of a big, dried up bruce tree. The girl knelt to pick a branch up and weighed it in her hands, finding it moderate enough to stab a few skulls. It would have to be - because the other option was to get devoured alive. With Nick here, that was not an impossible thought. Gillian would have to drop the grudge for now, but if they ever got out from this situation unscathed, he was up for an earful. Even Uncle Pete could not have prepared him for Gillian Sommerling's wrath.

"You can smash their heads in with the hilt", she instructed Nick past her heavy draws of breath, propping the branch for an impact. They advanced towards the walkers without thinking much - they were only beginning to get alerted by the sounds the two made. The first few kills were easy - before Gillian’s branch gave in and snapped in half, getting stuck in the eye socket of a falling walker.

"Fuck it, let's see if the door's open", Nick murmured and nonchalantly pushed aside a few of the rotting corpses on his way. Gillian kept an eye out for him, backing next to the wall. She was on his mercy once again and feared that this was it, the end for both of them. Pathetic. She would not die with him, after barely escaping her fate back at the river. 

"It's open, get in!"

The walkers were drawing closer and closer, but the two escapees were faster as they slipped into the shed. Gillian’s immediate reaction was to see if it was empty - and maybe their luck had finally turned. It seemed safe enough.

"Find something to prop it", Gillian struggled as the first walkers slumped against the doors, almost breaking past her feeble attempt to lean against. Nick had disappeared into the cellar's darkness and panic started fueling Gillian, panic, and adrenaline that still found an outlet from her tired body.

"Any time now!"

She heard some vague noises behind her. Did Nick really want her dead or something? 

”What the fuck’s taking so-”

He silenced her by pushing her aside with a heavy elbow. He was carrying a heavy-looking crate on his arms, a crate which he propped against the door in a violent push which sent the weak corpses, still piling behind the doors, on the ground instead. Gillian had fallen to the ground too, from this sudden impact. A growl fought its way from her throat as she allowed her defenses to come down.

”You _fucking asshole!_ ” 

The adrenaline might have gradually faded down, but Gillian was still full of anger. A surge traveled through her body as she jumped at Nick who only barely caught her fists as she tried to hit him with both of them. Her face leaned closer to his as her eyes sparked rage. If she could have reached, she might have bitten him. 

”You nearly fucking pushed me to my death? What the fuck?”

He did not speak, just looked at her with indifferent eyes as she struggled to get free of his grip. He was strong, a lot stronger than her. It did not take long to burn her energy down.

"Say something!" she groaned in frustration and tried to kick the male, to no avail. _How the fuck could he?_

”I always give everyone else a hard time. Didn’t Uncle Pete tell you that?”

”Fuck Pete”, she hissed and he finally allowed her fists to go free, throwing them away from his chest. She knew better not to get violent with him anymore, and instead, kicked a rigged _something_ that was built against the wall. ”How about you define your own damn self?!”

He answered nothing. Deep inside, he was ashamed of himself. What he had done back at the river had been a weak man’s deed, he had not intended, no, he had _wanted_ to save her. But he was a coward. Not a damn hero. She knew it now, too. Why could she not just lay it off? 

”Fuck”, she was still cursing, and finally, the tears came. They blinded her eyesight even though she tried to furiously blink them away, hoping that Nick would not notice. He did. Should he apologize? Hug her? Had Luke not done that when she had felt down last time? He was not Luke, though. He was Nick the Coward. Nick, the Major almost-killer Dick. He did nothing. 

Meanwhile, not to show her pent-up anger and relief, Gillian had turned her attention to the machine she had kicked earlier. It gave her a reason to turn her back to the male who had sat down on a chair and pulled his cap to cover his face from the girl. 

”What the fuck is this shit?”, the girl snorted with an agitated tone. The weird installation had tubes that ran from molten kegs to another. It seemed to serve no inherent purpose, which annoyed Gillian. She could not strangle walkers to death with the tubes, much less overpower them with brittle pieces of wood.

”It’s a still.”

She had not laid off her agitation to Nick, and hearing him speak now, about some fucking _still_ , sparked her annoyance. 

”I know what it is”, she said arrogantly, kicking the piece once again. Nick snorted equally humorlessly, still eyeing the installation with interest in his eyes. They looked up at the angry girl and for some reason, perhaps because Nick had truly never felt closer to anyone else before, he decided to ease it.

”The fuck you do.”

”Well, what is it for?” Gillian huffed.

”For makin’ booze. But that rig ain’t fit to piss in.”

_Of course._

”Well, then you probably don’t mind if I-” she kicked the structure to pieces, ”destroy. It.”

”Knock yourself out.”

And so she did. It did not take long for the weak structure to give in and crumble to the ground where it laid, as useless as Gillian felt. After covering the mess with some dusty tarpaulin for whatever reason, the girl sat down, hiding from his gaze behind the shelves and crossed her arms on her chest like a petulant little child. He was agitating her so badly, although the negativity was starting to dissolve the more grateful Gillian grew towards the fact that despite what had happened, she had once again survived. 

”Sorry.”

Her eyes did not look to the man who had spoken. It really did not matter what he said, anyway. She knew he had not done it to kill her. He had panicked, he had not thought it out. If Gillian knew for any better, she guessed that it was exactly like Nick to almost kill someone accidentally. Had she not been the same anyway? 

”Hey… I mean it.”

He sat down next to her on the dirty ground. At first, in a fit of pettiness, she wanted to move away from him. But soon her annoyance died down and she allowed herself to look at him without thinking about… ripping his face off, or something. Her accusative eyes looked at him as she propped her right cheek on her crossed arms, forcing Nick to speak.

”I panicked, okay? Fuck, for a moment I thought I saw Uncle Pete gettin’ bit…”

”He didn’t. He’s okay”, Gillian said shortly and started to kick her feet in front of her. Outside the shed, the riverside walkers started pouring from the surrounding woods. When they sensed no one alive near them, their interest quickly toned down. For the unfortunate luck of the two hiding in the shed, some stayed lingering near their hideout. Gillian and Nick could hear the cries of the walkers easily, through the door and the small windows that allowed some light inside. They would have to look out for those windows, Gillian hastily noted. 

”We’re never getting out from here if we don’t look for something useful”, the girl said dismissively and moved a plank that had been propped in front of the shelf across the two. Hoping that it would reveal something useful, like a knife of some kind, the girl was surprised to find glass jars instead. 

“What the…”

“Show me.”

Nick scooped closer to inspect the weird mason jars. An idea had begun to bud in his head ever since seeing the moonshine still. Opening one up, he sniffed it and much for Gillian’s dismay, took a long sip of the liquid. A grimace flashed across his face as he slumped on his arse, laughing dryly. Gillian looked him like he was an idiot. 

“What the hell is that?”

“Whiskey.”

“Just great. Fucking amazing.”

Alcohol was the last thing they needed, especially when neither of them had any means of defense left. 

“Shut the fuck up for a while, would ya?” Nick snapped at the girl who immediately recoiled in surprise and embarrassment. “Take a sip or get off my ass for a while. We're stuck, princess. Like a fucking drink's goin' to change that.”

She gripped the jar from his hand and took a mouthful of the homemade moonshine, only to spit it out in disgust. Nick laughed. He had called her a god damn princess. 

“Too much?”

“I always liked wine more anyway”, Gillian, recognizing her bad attitude, said softly and moved to sit against the door, leaving Nick behind the shelves with his drinks. _A princess. Jesus fucking Christ on a stick._

A small wince of pain interrupted Gillian's train of thoughts. She would need to check for the wound, now that she still had the strength for it. She could already feel exhaustion creeping into her limbs, leaving them sluggish and heavy.

”Don’t look”, she warned the man and began undressing her pants, only enough to reveal the wound. She was greeted by a white dressing - good, it was not bleeding, it was great. The only positive thing in this shit of a situation. Gillian suspected that the stitches were still intact and knew for better not to start checking them right there and then. 

The information eased her stressed mind so much that she allowed her eyes to flutter shut. Her aching back ceased to lay against the crates - apples, she read before closing her eyes for good - feeling safer when her weight worked as additional support in case of walkers. 

_False safety,_ the last bits of her rational mind tried to warn her. _Fuck you,_ she told herself and for once, despite the messy situation, decided to let it all loose.

She needed some god damn sleep - and a smelly cellar, or drunk Nick was not going to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gillian's clothes - roughly illustrated again :>
> 
> [Here](https://i.imgur.com/xFvi9E5.png)


	11. Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for heavy petting

_Crack._

Huh?

_Crack._

What the hell?

 _Crack_ \- “Fuck!”

Hearing the familiar word of frustration sprung Gillian awake from her deep slumber. The girl jerked on her feet like a startled rabbit and immediately knew what was going on. Nick. She could see him between the shelves as he picked up yet another empty mason jar, ready to throw it to the adjacent wall. This did not sit well with the girl who was still trying to stir her mind awake, embarrassed for having fallen asleep in the first place.

"Do you have a damn deathwish?"

She sat on the apple crates opposing him to block his access to throwing more of the glass jars, looking at him compactly, with sharp eyes that had no sign of sleep in them any longer. Upon noticing her judgmental eyes Nick lowered the glass jar and sighed. The sound was full of utter defeat. Sad, tired. Gillian’s face softened. What was with these people? All so miserable and hug-able. All the time spent with _him_ had truly changed her - he had been so strong, showed no mercy, no sympathy - and expected the same and no less from his companion, too. Seeing people with weaknesses was new to her. So that was why she sat still, not daring to move anywhere in case he decided to resume his destructive new hobby. She also wanted to live, very much so, and all the ruckus Nick was causing had surely drawn the attention of the walkers that still flocked around the shed. If he kept going, they would break through the door. Or the windows. Gillian's eyes were drawn into them, observing. 

”I had to kill my mom.”

Nick suddenly spoke in a somber tone. Gillian could not hear it at first - was ready to ask him to repeat in annoyance, when the realization hit her. _Oh fuck._ He was finally talking. She allowed herself to calm down just a little to lay her eyes on him. He was not looking anyway.

”Sounds weird when I say it out loud, huh? What I did earlier… it… it reminded me of her.”

Confused, not knowing how to react to his drunken words, Gillian just sat still. Maybe it was for the best not to interrupt once she had managed to get the shy, quiet man talking. 

"Luke used to always push me."

This caught Gillian's attention fully. She had known that they were friends, they had worked together for a while, that was it. But before the outbreak? She slid down the crates on an eye level with Nick who, perhaps encouraged by her attention, continued.

"I never wanted to go into business with him... I remember when he sold me on it. His big plan. Some fucking plan."

He drank from the labeled glass jar and grimaced.

"A case of beer and he just said, "Nick, we're burning daylight!". And that was that", finally he looked at Gillian who was deep in her thoughts, staring at the ground in front of her. "After six months we were flat broke. I didn't care. We were having fun."

She smiled apologetically. It sounded just like Luke, she thought. Opportunist. Perhaps that was why she had liked him from the very beginning. But hearing Nick's words, she could not help but feel empathy for him. The two were like night and day, yet still best friends. They had survived together. That was surely something? But Nick was not done with his rant. His blue eyes were sad but glowed pent-up anger and frustration.

"I wish I was like him" he lamented and once again the jar of whiskey rose to his lips. "I wish I could just keep moving all the time. I'm just not built like that."

"You don’t have to be - built like that.”

Nick turned his head hastily to message some sort of agreement and acknowledgment of her words.

"Everyone I grew up with. It all happened to them. And now, it's going to happen to us. We're all so fucked. This whole world is fucked."

Gillian was about to protest but gave up. Might as well let him finish his rant.

"I mean, what's the point? We'll just march to some new place and somebody else will die- it's never going to stop. Eventually, it'll be our turn."

He took a long gulp that emptied the jar. Another grimace, a judging pair of eyes.

"I can't believe we've been here a day. It's been a day, right?"

The girl was shaking her head, leaning against the cold crates. It was no use to talk sense into Nick right now. She knew he was drunk - his movements were sluggish, voice dragging. Besides - he would never talk about these things while sober anyway.

"You want some more?"

The question came out of nowhere. Gillian’s eyes opened to meet Nick’s reached out arm, which held a glass jar of whiskey full to the brim. Either he did not remember her reaction to it or did not care.

”Well, to hell with it”, her voice was hoarse as she grabbed it, chugging it halfway with one gulp. 

They sat in silence, emptying their jars of whiskey at a leisurely pace. Nick had closed his eyes and looked like he was about to sleep, and Gillian kept studying his features. That stubble. Those dark eyebrows that were a little furrowed. She smiled. She had known the group for a while, but only now she noticed Nick’s navy blue shirt that he had worn over a white long-sleeved shirt. 

"The Chasers, huh? I used to listen to their music. Wonder what became of them", Gillian scoffed and took a long drink of whiskey that burned her mouth like crazy. It felt good. She could already feel the lightheaded feeling of intoxication and faintly thought that she should stop. Her system was not going to like this. She was already dehydrated. But fuck that, she drank another long sip, fuck everything. Nick raised his head and opened his eyes to meet hers. He was smiling. It was a drunken smile, not even that wide or charming one, but a happy, foolishly happy one. 

"I've never met anyone else who would have listened to them", he admitted.

”Me neither.”

They continued to sit in silence. Gillian had folded her legs against her chest, hugging the jar of booze tightly. Her fingers were cold, surely the freezing glass did not help warm them up, but she felt nothing besides calmness. It felt good, not having to talk. The silence between them was a comfortable one. 

Nick, noticing her shivers, motioned her to move next to him scooting closer to the shelf to make some room for the girl. She complied awkwardly almost losing her balance, trying to act somewhat nonchalant as she crawled over, still holding the drink in her left hand. 

Once she had survived the crawl next to his side she slumped against his left shoulder, smiling like a fool - and certainly acting like one, too. Her amusement died down as Nick wrapped his left arm around her shoulder, engulfing the girl in much-needed warmth. She loved the way he smelled - a bit of sweat, smoke, and booze. Hell, she was probably the same. It was how things were now, as much as she had first been disgusted by the natural smells of the human body. Now it just reminded how alive she - the people around her, was. 

"I never got to know what happened to my parents. Never will."

Her voice was quiet, like a pip of a mouse. Her head had ceased to lean on Nick’s shoulder - she could feel him leaning against it. Light blush invaded her cheeks as she realized just how close the two were.

"Why not? They live in the West or something?"

Gillian just smiled mysteriously. He did not inquire more, and she was glad that he respected her limits. She did not know why it was so hard for her to let people in on her roots - but right now, even when she was very drunk, she still held back. Instead, she turned her thoughts to the beginning of the end. A little like Nick had. It felt only fair to tell him that much. 

"Funny” she scoffed and her voice was not amused, at all. ”I would probably not even be sitting right here, right now, if I hadn't gotten blackout drunk on 4th of July. I swear. The damn longest hangover I've ever experienced. Drove me into this motel by the road to some hillbilly fucking farm. Stayed there and god forbid I am glad I did."

She reached over Nick to get another jar from the shelf. Her fingertips only got to brush the side of the glass when she lost her balance and, in certain horror, fell on his lap. She tried to get up as fast as she could, she had not intended, but then he spoke.

"Stay. You're damn cold."

He wrapped his hands around her torso and pulled her closer. Somehow she knew that it was drunk Nick talking, but did not mind. She herself was not sober either and besides, it had been such a long while since someone had held her as gently. Her _companion_ certainly never had. A wave of familiar anger swept over her. Why was Hunter everything she could think of? He was fucking gone. Dead. Abandoned her like nothing. She was alone and damn scared. 

Bitter tears started burning her eyes. He had always sworn to protect her, but that had been the extent of the care he had shown. Instead, he had toyed with her feelings, hurt her, then comforted her only to do twice as much damage later on. Why had she left with him? She could be in a much better place right now if it was not for god damn Hunter. Her fingers curled around Nick’s sleeve as she threw her legs over his, sitting on his lap. Her hand ceased to lay behind his back, where it was dancing at the hem of his shirt. She was so upset that the childish thought of never bringing up his name ever again slipped past her mind. She could never truly let him go. Trying to avoid his name like plague was never going to work in the first place. 

”We need to go. Soon. Find Pete and go back.”

She only nodded an answer. Even thinking about the people back at the cabin got her feeling too emotional, way too emotional. It did not take long for her to break down. 

"I miss my family so fucking much" Gillian sobbed, her voice trembling awfully making it hard to tell what she said. "I miss them so much and I have no idea where they are right now. Fuck. Fucking, fucking fuck."

Nick hugged her tighter. He did not speak. 

" _Fuck._ "

The warmth that radiated from Nick's body helped to lull her sadness away slowly, yet a lot more effectively than any alcohol, although it had its part in the ease at which her sadness dissolved. Hell, it had enough part in the fact that Gillian was even speaking these things. All the repressions were broken down one by one. Soon she would have nothing left but the ruins of her secrets - those secrets which she had harbored for herself for years. 

"I’m sorry, Gillian."

Another silence fell into the shed. They sat in each other’s embrace, only breaking the silence with the draughts of whiskey. Gillian sighed softly. She fixed her position so that her head was resting on Nick’s shoulder now - breath tingling his neck, nose touching it lightly every now and then. The heat between their bodies was getting somewhat unbearable. 

A different kind of warmth began budding in the girl's mind as she felt his chest rise against hers every time he breathed in. _Don't._

She could not help it. An urge to sink her teeth into Nick's exposed neck suddenly possessed her, and once a drunk Gillian got an idea there was no going back. She squirmed a little in his grip, to get closer, to examine his neck like a predator ready to lunge at it. He seemed to notice this. 

”What’re you doing?” he asked lowly. She did not answer. Instead, she leaned closer to his neck and pressed her lips on the soft skin experimentally. The world around her was spinning wildly - she was _really_ drunk for doing shit like this. She could feel him freeze under her light touch, a sense of victory flushing over the feelings of lust. _Calm down._ Afraid that he would not like what she was after, Gillian forced herself to face him. Her hands landed down the sides of his face to support her weight as she moved to straddle him, shamelessly. Her head hurt and her thoughts were hazed by alcohol, but she could tell that Nick was not angry - what he was, she did not know. Eager? Anxious? Hungry for something?

”I’m so-” she trailed off. 

”I know.” 

He shut her up with another kiss that rendered both of them wordless. His hands were lingering on her hips, pulling her closer equally experimentally. She complied. A voice in her head kept interrupting the moment though. _Don’t,_ it nagged at her. _You’ll regret it._ She wanted to silence that voice so badly but noticed that her body simply did not obey. Her hands worked sluggishly, barely discarding her new jacket on the ground. Nick took it as a sign to push the girl down on her back, to lay on the ground that was now covered by the cloth. Something sharp hurt her as he slumped on top.

"Fuck", she moaned in pain. Nick, oblivious to the glass shard, kept kissing Gillian's now exposed neck with wet, sloppy kisses. She only hastily remembered the bite on her shoulder - would Nick notice? _Screw it,_ she thought, pulling him closer. She wanted him so badly, on the floor of this pathetic shack in the middle of nowhere drowning in worry and sadness. She was sad for him, and in some complicated way Margot too. She had not thought about her for a long time. But right now, in this context, it made all the sense that all she could see was Margot's happy face as she leaned to kiss her in the pouring rain. How she had once waited for Gillian for hours on end while she was partying because that particular night Margot had wanted to paint a scenery of her childhood home, not drink. The tears falling down Gillian's cheeks were not of the physical pain of the glass shard. There was one piercing her heart, and it seeped hatred. Hatred towards her own self.

"Nick..."

Just as he had undressed Gillian's shirt and revealed her bare skin for his touch, she felt vomit move up her throat. Breaking free from the heated embrace she scrambled on her feet, running away from Nick not to bother him with the disgusting mess - and projectile vomited on the floor. He was following, laughing. His gentle hands helped her to move her hair away from her face as she kept throwing up, efficiently emptying her stomach from everything she had eaten in the past couple of days. After her angry stomach began calming down she could finally straighten her back. Her eyes were watery, nose red, lips plump. Nick was still amused, he was blushing hard and his cap was lost somewhere on the ground where they had just moments ago made out. 

”Why are you laughing?” Gillian could not help the annoyance. 

”Was I that bad?”

Fine. It was funny. She cracked a smile and swayed on her feet, almost falling down. But Nick was quicker, he snatched her on his arms, holding her weak body closer to his. Hastily thinking that this was exactly what he was supposed to do, he picked the girl up. She was so light and frail.

"Alright. Come on now", he walked back to their spot against the wall, sitting down, closing her in his embrace once again. He pulled the jacket back up to cover the shivering girl from all the bad in the world. All the previous thoughts about god knows what kind of physical activities were gone from their minds. Funny how one could sharpen up so fast. 

"We really need to leave at the first light", he said, no trace of intoxication in his steady voice. She nodded and closed her eyes, feeling safe on his arms although the smell of vomit and alcohol lingered in the air.

”And no."

"No?"

"You weren’t that bad."


End file.
